


On the Way

by MrThirst



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Amputation, Bugs, Cis Junkrat, Cis Roadhog, Gore, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Strong Language, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 10:42:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7798669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrThirst/pseuds/MrThirst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some insights on how life moves, changes, and brings unsuspecting people together. (aka Junkrat meets Roadhog and they eventually go abroad.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bugs

**Author's Note:**

> Relationships, characters, and additional tags will be added as chapters are added. The violence will increase as the story moves along. First Overwatch fic please be gentle!  
> \---  
> As you may gather from the title, this chapter focuses a lot on bugs (fleas and mosquitos) and dealing with their pesky attitudes.  
> \---  
> Thanks to my Beta Reader, Boi Ready, without whom this would have ended long before this point.

The Outback offered a variety of trials that made survival something earned through hard work. For Junkrat, the relentless heat; the vicious, half-starved, and irradiated predators; even the other Junkers out for his blood and his treasure were all reasonable to handle.  
The heat was intense but he’s never known anything else. As long as he could find shelter during the hours the sun burns brightest and hottest overhead, the days passed without blistering his skin. Those days are the successes. When he’s stuck out in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere without any supplies or rock formations to keep the sun off his back are the rough ones. He has find somewhere to camp for the days it takes the sunbaked blisters on his skin to heal up before going out again. Annoying, but altogether manageable.  


Predators got caught in his traps, blasted into bloody pieces when they tread on his mines. In fact, he rather liked attracting their attention. It was difficult to hunt animals big enough to fill his belly and he was always delighted to gorge on dingo meat. He wished he knew how to preserve the meat on his own. He always carried it with him but his determination to make it last long enough to hit civilization often meant having to swallow slowly rotting, stenching, meat quickly enough to avoid the taste. His stomach objected, it always did, but after close to a decade the objections were dying down at long last. Not his favorite adaptation to life on the run alone in the Outback, but he couldn’t deny its usefulness. 

Other Junkers were, for the most part, only slightly harder than the starving animals. They were hardly better at evading the traps he set whenever he camped but on the rare chance they were able to get passed the mines and snapping jaws of his bear traps, they had a handful trying to subdue him. He was agile, bending, twisting, and darting away. Stronger than he looked, he could free himself of half-assed holds, and if that failed, he bit his way free using sharp, jagged teeth. He’d mastered sinking his teeth in between phalanges and metacarpal bones, snapping the joint and tearing flesh as he dragged fingers off at the knuckles. In his experience, Junkers didn’t fight long after determining their “prey” was crazy. Junkrat cackled wildly as they ran, hurling bombs at their retreating figures. They didn’t get far before the exploding shrapnel tore them apart farther than Junkrat had gotten to on his own. They usually had supplies that he could scavenge from their bloody remains.  
He found attacks grew more frequent when he was finally getting closer to a town. Junker settlements were dangerous but he could stock up on things that weren’t charred, used, and/or damaged. Plus, he always looked forward to a good stiff drink. Or if “good” wasn’t attainable (usually it wasn’t) a bad stiff drink was fine too. Anything that burned going down and made his head buzz pleasantly. 

But out in the wilds, it's the bugs he can't stand. On the rare occasions he found pools of water safe enough to drink, mosquitos had already inhabited the area. Buzzing around without pause he can’t manage to swat away even half of them as he rushes to fill his bottles with water. His skin is covered in irritating bumps when he’s finally able to get away. Everywhere there are fleas he's too twitchy to catch and pull off his skin, big as his fingernails that gnaw over the limbs he has left. His legs are covered in scabs and irritated bumps he hasn't scratched open yet-- but he will. He scratches and scratches because he can't help it. The itching makes him crazy-- at least, it adds to what radiation and constant dehydration have already done. He scratches because he can't hold still, because his hands, even the metal one, move without his permission. When he stands he can feel them, every bite he's aggravated up his legs, like needles out from under his skin. The blood rushes to them, pounds under the scabs, and makes them ache whenever he moves. He realizes throughout the day there's blood under his fingernails, smeared over his skin. He scratches until he can hardly feel anymore. The bites are layered on too thickly in places for his arm to register the feeling of his nails, of the metal fingertips. His body doesn't feel real sometimes and he scratches harder to try and fix it. The bugs make him crazy. He finds himself with his hand in his mouth, gnawing ferociously at the bleeding, itching holes there. Groaning, he drops his hand, bleeding from the bumps and sliced by his own teeth, the taste of iron strong on his tongue as he goes back to trying to ignore how his whole body is screaming at him to scratch, scratch, scratch.

In the months after Roadhog joined with him, Junkrat learned a lot about how to keep the bugs off. He was irritated by Junkrat’s constant scratching until he grabbed him to force him to stop one day. Catching sight of Rat’s uneven skin, bites with skin torn off under the constant assault of his nails, he stilled. Rat did not. He kept squirming, pushing fruitlessly at Hog’s enormous fist.  
“Lay off the goods, Hog!” Junkrat growled, still trying to push away.  
“Hold still,” Roadhog ordered. The growl he used made Junkrat still (as much as he could.) Hog turned his arm over, inspecting his skin. He looked over his arm, across his chest, the remainder of his right arm, his back, down his torso. Rat shrieked, surprised but delighted, when Hog grabbed on of his legs and hoisted him into the air upside down to look over his legs without kneeling. With a disgusted grunt, Hog let him go and almost chuckled at the indignant squawking he got when Junkrat hit the ground.  
“What the fuck was that? ‘S bad manners to look a guy over and drop him like shit, shit-dick!” Rat grumbled, rubbing his head when he got himself into an upright position. “Coulda given me at least a warning.”  
“You been rolling in bugs? You’re disgusting.”  
“I don’t roll in them, fuck face, they know how to run around, y’know.”  
Roadhog grunted in that way that meant Junkrat was close to getting a fist to the face. He crossed his arm, fixing Hog with more or less a pout. It wasn’t his fault he got torn up this way.  
Roadhog sighed and dropped heavily to the ground next to Junkrat. He pulled his bag closer and started rooting through it. After a moment, one monstrous hand reached back and grabbed Junkrat’s arm, squeezing to still his hand. Rat hadn’t noticed he’d been scratching again.  
“Don’t do that.”  
“Can’t help it,” Rat tittered almost sheepishly. “Itches like a bitch.”  
Hog squeezed in warning before letting go, pointing one beefy finger at Rat before turning back to the bag. Huffing but getting the hint, Junkrat plucked at the plating on his metal arm instead of scraping up his skin.  
What Roadhog was looking for were bandages. He held out his hand expectedly and after a few confused glances between the hand and the pig mask, Junkrat gave over his own arm.  


For a man as vicious as Roadhog was, Junkrat was awed by how delicate his massive hands could be. He worked gently, carefully, applying bandages neatly across his skin. It wasn’t comfortable, but Hog grunted that it should be enough to protect him from getting infected. Rat asked if they had to do his whole body. Hog said only in areas Rat had scratched himself to hell-- so basically everywhere. It was a lot of holding still to let Hog do up his arm and a half and across his back. By the time he was done, Junkrat was twitching and complaining.  
“It doesn’t gotta be done all at once, does it? Lemme take a break!”  
Hog refused, pushing him onto his back and dragging him closer to do his chest. The rat tried to scramble off, but the escape was halted abruptly as Roadhog flattened his palm across Junkrat’s rib cage and pushed him flush against the ground.  
“Oi! Cut it out, pig face, lemme up!” He shoved at the fingers and, rather than getting the results he wanted, was simply crushed harder into the dirt. Groaning through clenched teeth, he tried again to wriggle free.  
“Stop it.” Roadhog growled, pushing down until Junkrat could hardly breathe. He gasped for breath, trying to fill his lungs while his chest was being compacted too much to expand. He whined breathlessly and patted the back of Roadhog’s hand, tapping out. Satisfied, the hand pulled away, leaving Junkrat spluttering for breath but obediently lying in one place. Another long few moments passed before Roadhog muttered, “here” and tossed something at Junkrat. Quick reflexes had his hand around the little object before it could land on his face. A bouncy ball.  
“Keep yourself busy while I finish.”  
Junkrat snickered, tossing the ball into the air above him, “this’ll work for now, but if you’re ever lucky enough to get me in bed you better have somethin’ better in mind.”  
His joke, hilarious though he found it, simply earned him a painful swat on one thigh. His giggling did not waver even as his thigh stung. With a little sigh, he threw the ball again. Catch. Throw. Catch. Throw. Three throws was more than enough time for quiet. Licking his lips, he glanced at Hog’s mask and grinned broadly.  
“Hey, Hog, I ever tell you about the time…”


	2. Size

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking, size comparison, over-thinking, and drinking.

One thing for certain for survival is that size does matter. While not a be all end all rule, it was definitely helpful for intimidating folks into keeping their distance-- a useful skill considering every living creature had the potential to be fatal. In an explosiveless pinch (only happened once!) size and volume could be used to frighten snarling animals away.

Junkrat had always been one of the tallest people around that he remembered. To his knowledge even back among the other children scrambling around trying to scrounge up a living he stood head and shoulders above everyone else. But he was not thick like Hog. His muscles were defined but sinewy and stretched tightly over his bones, built obviously by constant overwork and insufficient nutrition. Cicadas and suchlike, even swollen due to radiation, only went so far for building good, bulky muscles, and the sparse periods of slowly rotting dingo meat were too few and far between to make up for the periods without. Strangers were rarely intimidated by his appearance, despite his endless manic grinning and perpetually smouldering hair. It took actual effort, fighting and clawing and blowing bodies to bits, before he was viewed as a legitimate threat.

At six and a half feet tall, Junkrat was not used to feeling small, but size was something Roadhog had in spades.

Almost a foot taller than Junkrat, he was the tallest man in any room he entered. Looking down on average people helped Junkrat intimidate weaker fighters, but Roadhog towered over everyone. And if simple height wasn't enough, the man was _huge_. His whole body was made of muscles and fat and more muscles. Only people who were dangerously overconfident or incredibly stupid tried to fight him one-on-one. Junkrat had seen him pick up a fully grown man and tear him in half with his bare, titanic hands. He'd felt warm and shivery for days after. Once, Hog had grabbed Rat's arm to pull him out of danger and his fist had covered from Rat's hand up passed his elbow. He’d been left with the most massive bruise he had ever had. He pretended not to know Hog had noticed he kept touching it, pressing down to feel the dull ache again. He wrapped his hand around his forearm, grinning at the color contrast between the orange metal and dark purple skin.

Rat had no idea how Roadhog was able to maintain his stature. He packed food more efficiently but he only ate meat when the duo were really desperate. Wasn't meat higher in fat than most other foods? Rat thought he'd heard that somewhere but couldn't place where it might have been. Even in desperate times, Roadhog kept himself together far more neatly than Junkrat ever managed. Like now.

After spending an hour sitting in the shade of a rock, simply staring at the dirt, movement in his periphery made Rat blink himself back into his body and shake his head. He grinned at Hog, dozing in the shade, and turned back to the black figure. A scorpion. They were dangerous to catch and tricky to eat, but he’d found a way that stung only a little and let his head swim in a charming little way.

He almost had it in his mouth when a giant hand jerked his arm away from his face.

“Oi!” Junkrat grumped, glaring at a still-waking Roadhog. “What gives? Catch your own.”

“Cook it first.”

“Eh? Why?”

“So you don’t poison yourself, jackass.”

Junkrat giggled, tugging his arm just enough to feel the power behind Roadhog’s grip. “Takes all the fun out of it, don’t it? Do it careful like, like what I do, an’ it feels right nice.”

Roadhog gave the most long-suffering sigh Junkrat had ever heard before prying the arachnid out of Junkrat’s hand with ease.

“Hey! Stop! Catch your own!” Junkrat cried, launching forward and reaching out for it. Hog held it aloft, away from Junkrat.

“I’m not eating it.”

Junkrat eyed him suspiciously, but backed down. Once satisfied Rat wouldn’t just jump after his catch again, Hog let him go and shifted closer to the little pit they’d dug for a fire. He hated lighting fires during the day. It was hot enough as it was without having to sit close to fire, but keeping Junkrat from killing himself was part of his job. After it was cooked, he dropped it into Rat’s metal hand, and only had to stop him once from shoving the much-too-hot scorpion into his mouth.

“Anyway,” Junkrat started talking as if he hadn’t stopped the conversation they’d been having prior to stopping for shade, “we gettin’ close to that town you were talking about? I could really go for something to drink that ain’t just water-- not that water ain’t a gift from… the rain? The ocean? Whatever. Point is, I really wanna get shitfaced soon, so like I was askin’ before: we close to town?”

Roadhog didn’t answer.

“You sleepin’ on me again?” Rat asked in a huff, licking off his fingers. He got onto his knees and shuffled closer to lean over Hog’s arm. In a soft, sing-song voice he whispered, “Hoggie~ You sleeping? ‘S boring when you do.”

He was shoved over by a palm to the face. “Let me sleep, Rat. Keep watch.”

“What if I’m tired too?” He whined, pushing himself off his back so he was sitting again.

“Sleep in the sidecar later.”

“Hog--”

_"Shut. Up. ”_

Junkrat whined, flopping back onto the rock dramatically. Sleepy Hog was annoyingly dismissive when they camped out like this. He was nicer when they were in town in some rundown inn with a room for cover and an actual bed to sleep on. Junkrat hadn’t made scores nearly as big without Roadhog and he was still torn between ecstatic to be able to sleep in beds semi-regularly and horror at the cost. More often than not Hog was able to remedy Junkrat’s displeasure by simply not paying and/or letting Rat blow the place when they were leaving. Sometimes the heat was too much and they had to lie _really_ low; actually pay and keep explosions on a strict need-to-blow basis. Junkrat hated lying low. He hated being stuck in a single room for days at a time. He glanced ruefully at Hog’s sleeping form again. Damn giant. Damn masked giant. Hog refused to tell him why he wore the mask, why he never took it off. Rude. The corners of his mouth twitched up as he watched the steady rise and fall of Hog’s massive stomach: reassurance he was alive. Making sure he didn’t acknowledge his dependence on his bodyguard to maintain this new, thrilling, almost easy lifestyle, he moved closer. Pressing his back to Roadhog’s arm, he sighed and relaxed. He edited the jerk of Roadhog’s body out of his mind, choosing instead to believe he was still asleep and hadn’t noticed. He picked at the plating on his metal arm, bandages still secure over his healing bug bites. They didn’t itch too badly anymore. He didn’t know they could heal as fast as they were. Still, he picked and tried to keep his eyes moving as he daydreamed about their next job in an attempt to keep his mind cemented to himself.

When Roadhog finally woke up and determined it was a good sun-angle to drive more, Junkrat tried piecing himself together again while he collected the traps he’d put out. He hadn’t noticed the time passing.

Hog put a hand on his shoulder as he was clambering into the car.

“What’s it?” He asked, looking up at the mask. Silence. He giggled. “C’mon, mate, I’m fine.”

Somehow, Roadhog’s mask did not look convinced.

“Lighten up, Hoggie,” Rat added, forcing himself to shrug off Hog’s hand so he could get settled. “I’m ready to roll!” He paused, then grinned deviously up at Hog again. “Ready to _ride the road_ , if you catch my meanin’, Roadie~”

Roadhog snorted and shook his head, turning his attention to the bike. Off they roared, Junkrat’s laughter washing away with the rush of the wind and the roar of the engine.

 

\------

 

It was astounding how many junker towns were indistinguishable from one another. Junkertown, the main one people talked about, was different. The little settlements that dotted the Outback, more trading posts than actual towns, were all alike. The exact structures and people differed of course, but the state of the buildings, the styles of dress, the behavior of the town itself, all these things were identical to one another. The key element to remember about every one of these settlements was: _do not trust anyone._

Hog parked the bike and waited patiently as Junkrat rigged it up to surprise any nasty little hands that thought they could touch it. Rat felt eyes on his back as he worked, whistling poorly in flee. He jumped up, arms outstretched and jazz hands going strong.

“Ta da~! She’ll be safe now.”

A grunt and brisk nod were the response before his companion turned and started off.

“It wouldn’t kill ya to sing my praises every now and again, would it?” Junkrat cackled, hobbling after him.

“It might.”

Rat laughed, leaning on Hogs arm to keep upright as they walked out onto the open street.

They shopped first. Rat whined, he’d wanted to drink, but Hog had cuffed him on the back of his head and pointed again at the store. Junkrat huffed and stomped after him. He perked up again as soon as they entered the shop. Scampering around, he came back to Hog with his arms full of incredibly important things for their travels. Hog started rooting around and pulling things away.

“Hey! Stop! But we need that!” He whined, watching Roadhog pile most of his treasures onto the nearest shelf. Okay, so maybe they hadn’t needed everything, but there was no reason to take all of it. Left with only nonperishable food items, he frowned down at his supply before shoving it at Hog. “You carry this. I’m going to get useful stuff.”

The store was quite well stocked, Junkrat was pleased to find, now that he was actually looking instead of grabbing “important” looking sugar snacks from whatever shelf he was near. He quickly found the non-edibles and rooted through their collection of chemical solutions. He’d need a slightly different store to get everything he needed for more explosives, but the over-the-counter stuff gave him a good start. Hog had evidently believed he would collect more seriously the second time because when Rat arrived at the register Hog was already done and waiting. Seeing Roadhog standing there looking at him, slightly backlit from the huge window behind him, carrying little grocery bags in his enormous hands did something weird. His chest constricted suddenly as the weird feeling washed over him. It almost made him trip.

“Let’s eat after this, ‘kay? I think I’m ‘bout to pass out.” Junkrat giggled at Roadhog as he dumped his haul onto the counter.

They dropped by a little motel on their way to find food. Roadhog got them a room where they could drop off their shopping before going out again. Junkrat was looking forward to actually having a bed again. He suddenly felt more tired than he had realized earlier. Still, they stepped back out into town to find a place to eat. Junkrat crowded Roadhog as they went, looking around constantly to make sure no one was looking at them, make sure no one was following, make sure he hadn’t been recognized yet. Nothing wrecked a nice little pit-stop like this than greedy junkers trying to steal him from Hog for the treasure he hadn’t kept his fucking mouth closed about. He still felt like an idiot about it. But since twitchy bastards like him were all over the place, the constant movement would thankfully not be suspicious.

There was a little pub at the end of the street they decided to visit. The booth was cramped, but anywhere indoors with Hog got cramped quickly anyway. The greasy menu was already at the table. Nothing pictured caught Junkrat’s eye, so he pushed it toward Hog instead.

“I just wanna drink.” He sighed dramatically, drumming his fingers on the tacky surface of the table.

“Eat.”

Junkrat stuck his tongue out. Their server arrived at that moment. Obviously ready to go home, she didn’t seem very interested in them. Good. The less she cared, the less likely she would be to recognize them or remember their faces later. Well, Rat's face, Hog's mask. Roadhog kicked Junkrat in the shins to get his eyes off her chest and his head in the game. She wanted to take his order. He giggled and asked for a beer. She left and he deliberately avoided the disapproving glare he knew he would be getting from the pig mask across the table from him.

“Told ya I wanted to drink,” he whined, chin on the table so he could reach to rub his throbbing leg.

“One.”

“How’s that? Can’t get knackered on _one_ beer.”

Although Junkrat was confident he was getting better at understanding the silences Roadhog used, he wasn't sure what to make of this one. He wondered if he'd pissed Hog off again. Hog didn't like to start fights in towns in which they had plans to stay-- in front of witnesses anyway. Rat wondered if he was going to pay for his snotty attitude when they got back to the room. How far could he push before Hog left?

No. He didn't like that. He jerked himself away from that train of thought. His mind wanted to go back, pull at that thread, test it out. Licking his lips, he inhaled sharply and turned his eyes from staring blankly out toward the bar to fix on Roadhog.

“Hey, Hog, when we leave this place, I've got a great idea for what's next for you n’ me!”

 

\------

 

One drink turned into three. Hog had ordered extra food and forced Rat to eat it at some point during the evening. He'd tried to suggest they leave but Rat had whined and told Hog he could turn in early if he wanted but the night was young and he wanted to play. He'd slipped out of the booth and sidled up to the bar. He hoped Roadhog was still watching him. The man next to him clapped his shoulder enthusiastically and offered to buy him a drink. Giggling, Junkrat took him up on it.

One drink turned into two, three, and four. Rat was laughing and chattering like wild to the stranger who laughed right along with him. The man was sitting closer than Junkrat thought he had been at first. They kept bumping into one another as they shifted on their seats. The man ordered drink five, leaning in close to whisper into Junkrat's ear. He himself couldn't stop giggling too loudly to hear the slurred words breathed over his skin. The guy's lips touched his jawline and Junkrat has just enough time to think, “I'm gonna get laid” before something grabbed him round the middle and tugged him hard into the air. He squealed as he was slammed against something soft, hot, and solid, before relaxing into giggles again when he realized he has just been slammed over Roadhog's shoulder. He's vaguely aware of some commotion on Roadhog's other side, but the new angle rushed his blood to his head so he was more preoccupied trying to stop his vision from swimming than figuring out who was yelling. Roadhog turned, heading briskly for the door. Junkrat barely caught a blurry glimpse of the bar, a heap on the floor, and a crowd filling in to examine whatever the floor shape was, before the pair was out in the open night air again.

Roadhog's body rocked him gently as he walked and the weight of his enormous hand behind his knees made Junkrat feel calm. He yawned and stared at the ground. His fingers twitched with want and he started cackling again as he let them do what they wanted. He got himself two nice big handfuls of Roadhog's ass causing Roadhog to grunt and tug Rat around again, holding him bridal style instead. Junkrat blinked blurrily up at him and giggled some more.

“This is more like it, eh, Hoggie?” He purred, leaning up to wrap his arms around Hog's neck. “Real romantic, this, don't’cha think?”

Hog grunted again and Junkrat was too drunk to know if he was unhappy or not. Hog had to let go with one hand so he could unlock the motel room, but one hand was more than enough to support Junkrat's meager weight. The realization sent a shiver through his spine and loud laughter bubbling up from his chest. The door closed behind them and Junkrat couldn't stop himself from moving closer, pressing a light, drunken kiss to the front of the mask.

He was dropped unceremoniously on the bed for his trouble. He whined, looking at Hog from his back.

“Aw, what's wrong? I'm not _that_ bad at kissing!” He laughed harder because of course that wasn't the reason. He spread himself over the mattress when he recovered enough to speak again. “I think that guy was gonna try takin’ me home-- or to the bathroom.” He laughed; it didn't matter where. “Woulda been good to get some after so long.” He fixed his eyes on Roadhog, heart hammering hard as he went on in his drink-fueled bravery. “What about you, big guy? Wouldn't say no to you.”

Roadhog didn't answer. Junkrat hadn't expected him to. He was still watching so Junkrat decided to take that as encouragement. His real hand snaked down the slope of his stomach and wriggled under his waistband.

“Prob’ly not your type, but oh fuck you're mine,” his eyes raked over Hog's stomach, his arms, everything visible. “Wouldn't mind messin’ around if you wanna.”

He bit his lip, fingers wrapping tightly around his dick  “Be real nice to see what gets you goin’, Hog.” He giggled, stroking himself under his shorts. “Revs your engine, ya might say.”

Roadhog moved and Junkrat's heart leapt into his throat. But he just made his way to the bathroom. The door clicked behind him and Junkrat deflated. He'd been really hopeful Hig would've wanted to take advantage of him. Pulling his hand free, he grabbed a pillow and tugged it to his chest. Curling around it, he tried to force himself to sleep before the reasons for Hog's refusal could fill his head.

The sunlight was blinding as it fell across his face. He whined and rolled over to try burying himself in pillows and blankets. The light hurt. The movement hurt. He didn’t even think he’d had enough to leave him so hungover and yet here he was with his head throbbing like his very heartbeat could push his skull into pieces. His mouth felt dry and he whined (immediately regretting it,) knowing he would have to get up to find water soon. He yawned and slowly rolled over to try facing the day again. The sunlight shining through the sheer curtains burned more when his eyes opened.

Observation one: Roadhog was not in the room. The gears in his brain ground together as he tried to remember what might have happened. He remembered the bathroom door clicking and a heavy feeling in his stomach he wanted to forget again but he didn't know why. The bathroom was open and empty from what the mirror on the wall showed him. He checked the room’s door: the lock was locked but the chain was not. Hog must have gone out for something.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he noticed what he probably should have realized first: observation two was his prosthetic had been removed. He hadn’t been in any state to do it himself last night. Hog must have done it for him. His heart skipped. Looking around for his arm, his eyes fell on the table beside the bed. A smile crossed his face as he spotted observation three: Roadhog had left a glass of water out for him. Charming.

He was half-way through the glass of water, sipping it slowly, when Roadhog returned. The door closed again and Roadhog redid the chain. Junkrat watched him locking up with mild interest, then when Roadhog’s attention was on him he grinned.

“Cheers, mate,” he raised the glass in acknowledgment of Roadhog’s good deed for the day. There were a few moments of silence while Hog stayed still and looked him over, then Junkrat’s fuzzy memories of the night before started to solidify. His face started heating up as he managed to recall some of the things he’d said, asked for, admitted. Well shit. That was definitely… that could cause some definite problems. Taking another long drink of water to spare himself from talking, he wished the memories would stop taking form. Until one made him perk up.

“Oi, oi, Hoggie, get a load of this!” He kicked the covers off himself and reached to grab for his metal arm. “That guy last night-- what’s his name? Did he tell me his name…? Huh. Dunno. Must not be important, eh? Ha ha! Well anyways he was tellin’ me at first about this bank what he’s got a buncha money in, right? And like he probably isn’t as loaded as he was sayin’-- tryna jump my bones so he was prob’ly talkin’ himself up nice n’ fancy-- but I’m thinkin’ the bank’s probably still a sure thing. So’s I got the info on where it is! Not too far from here, but it’s not a junker run place. We should check it out at least, yeah? Could be some fun to go, eh? Shouldn’t take a whole lotta lookin’ for you n’ me to work out what’s the best way to get in there.”

He shot a grin at Roadhog, hoping his rather unfortunate drunken display hadn't made Roadhog decide they should go separate ways. After another moment that felt like eternity to Rat’s nerve-frayed mond, Roadhog grunted and nodded. Junkrat whooped loudly and scrambled out of bed so they could plan how to move ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my Beta Reader without whom I would have most certainly given up ages ago, and thank you to everyone who has given this story a chance.


	3. Making Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little heist full of banter, ballet, and a bank.

The plan was simple: get in, get money, get it out, blow it up. Profit.

At least, that was the original plan. The one Roadhog had hated. He’d groaned and told Junkrat to think of something serious.

“I know you’re smarter than this,” he’d growled.

Junkrat hadn’t believed him, but he’d been warm on the inside as he went back to giggling over the plans he was drawing. He’d been working on a Plan B anyway. Maybe “Plan B” was a strong phrase for “detailed Plan A”. After a few hours of being as silent as he could be, he hopped up, stretched with a loud groan, and shoved his drawings in Roadhog’s face. His diagrams were messy due to his almost constant trembling, but Roadhog seemed to make out the patterns and arrows alright. He snorted and nodded, rolling the papers up carefully. He patted Junkrat on the top of the head with the roll and muttered, “good work”. He wished he hadn’t. Junkrat was even more giggly and talkative than usual afterwards.

They had all afternoon to sit in their newest motel room and wait. The drive from their previous junker motel to this almost-civilized town had been fewer than 800 kilometers-- a much shorter time than Hog had anticipated or they wouldn’t have left so soon. Junkrat had disagreed. Crammed tightly in his sidecar for five and a half hours as they roared through endless expanses of dune fields was not his idea of fun. Roadhog didn’t like him to stand up while they were driving. Roadhog didn’t like him to fling explosives out to the side and twist around excitedly to watch dust and sand shoot up into the air in beautiful clouds.Roadhog didn’t like him to bend in half and drape his legs over the top of the car, knees almost pressing into his face. Roadhog didn’t like him to clamber onto the back of the bike, lean on his shoulders and shout over the wind into his ears. Roadhog was a pain in the ass, strict and unwavering when it came to motorcycle safety. It was annoying as hell, but they did always make long drives successfully and ever since Roadhog enforced the rules, Junkrat hadn’t fallen off anymore. So he supposed they weren’t _all_ terrible. He didn’t miss the road rash.

For the time being, he sat cross-legged on the floor next to the bed, doing some tune ups on his arm. He was chattering about some situation the two of them had recently been in, recounting it with fondness as he worked. Laughing, he looked up at the bed where Roadhog was…

Not listening in the slightest.

He was leaning against the headboard with a book held daintily in his massive hand. Rat’s smile vanished, fond mood replaced at once by an unsettling irritation. He did not like to be ignored. Dropping his arm onto the floor, he scrambled up onto the bed, kneeling between Hog’s legs since it was the only available space.

“Hog, what’s that?”

“Book.”

Junkrat clicked his tongue, shuffling closer and leaning over the top to look at the pages that were keeping Roadhog’s attention away from him. “I see that! What’s it doing here?”

“I’m trying to read, Junkrat.”

“Could you…” Junkrat had started before his brain had the sense to stop him. He cut himself off, and that caught Hog’s attention.  Hog was looking at him through the mask now and instead of the satisfaction of stealing back his focus from the book it made Junkrat sweaty and uncomfortable. Defense mechanism popping in automatically, he giggled and started to push himself back off the bed. Roadhog’s hand shot out, grabbing his arm and pulling him closer again.

“Speak up, Rat.”

“Fuck off, pig,” Junkrat snapped, trying to twist his arm out of Hog’s hand. It was, as always, completely hopeless. He wouldn’t be going anywhere until Roadhog decided he could. He flopped onto the mattress on his back, putting his feet on Roadhog’s stomach to try pushing away. Again, failure. He whined and whimpered and pushed and pulled and Roadhog’s grip didn’t loosen. When he finally glared up to say something real, he was infuriated to see Roadhog had gone back to reading.

“Read it to me.”

Roadhog looked at him. “What?”

Junkrat looked at the cover of the book instead of the mask. “The book. Read it to me, yeah?”

“No. You can read it when I’m done.”

Junkrat stayed quiet a minute, then used Hog’s hand to help himself into a sitting position again. “Righto... Lemme go, I wanna put my arm back on.” Hog relinquished his hold and Rat slipped back onto the floor to his abandoned metal arm.

\------

Junkrat plastered to the window of their room in the late afternoon. Every ten minutes or so he would ask, “is it dark enough yet?” as the sun continued to sink near the horizon.

“Ask me again, and I’ll gut you,” Roadhog snapped after the fourth time. “When the sun is gone and it’s completely dark, then it’s dark enough.”

He huffed and stomped away from the window. “Alright, alright, don’t get your panties in a bunch. I just wanna do the job. Sittin’ around in this room’s makin’ me crazy.”

“You’re always crazy.”

Junkrat laughed, flopping down on a corner of the bed. “Can’t argue with that. Anyways, I wanna nap ‘fore we go. Move your leg.”

Hog grunted, but did ask he was asked. He wouldn’t be able to give him a lot of room without getting off the bed, but Junkrat was incredibly good at curling up to sleep in a ball. For as tall as he was stretched out he was able to take up very little space. His forehead pressed against his knees as he sighed and let himself drift off.

\------

“Rat, wake up.”

 

Warmth everywhere. His arms were securely fastened around something warm and he burrowed his face into it as something else brushed across his back. He yawned and hugged it tighter. He hadn’t even realized he was cold. Whatever was on his back moved to his shoulder, engulfed his shoulder completely, and shook him violently.

_“Rat, wake up.”_

His eyes snapped open and he realized the warm thing he had been so shamelessly hugging on was Roadhog’s leg. He shoved away, arms flailing, and tumbled off the bed onto the floor.

“Ow, shit!” Junkrat pushed himself up. “It time now?”

Roadhog nodded and it was a small wonder Junkrat could see the movement at all. The room was completely dark. Junkrat wasn’t sure why Roadhog hadn’t turned the lights on. The curtains were closed so it wasn’t as if anyone shrouded in the night outside would be able to see them spot-lighted. Dwelling on that wasn’t likely to get him anywhere, so Junkrat sprang to his feet and went leaping over to his bag. Throwing things together quickly, he slung it onto his back and bounded over to Roadhog.

“Okay! Ready and willing, Hog!” He giggled excitedly, eyes flashing at the door. “You all packed? Good to go? C’mon! C’mon, let’s go!”

They headed through the door and Junkrat couldn’t stop bouncing on the balls of his feet under the moth-covered orange lights while Roadhog locked their door. The bank was a fifteen minute walk. Hog had parked the bike closer to their target when they had arrived in case things went south and they had to skip town rather than hiding out in the motel. Fortunately everything they had worth keeping fit inside the bags they were carrying now so they didn’t have to concern themselves with dropping by the motel during a get away.

 

Junkrat wasn’t altogether sure what time it was, all he knew was that it was completely dark. Judging by the empty streets, Roadhog had let him sleep well into the night rather than waking him as soon as the sun was gone. He supposed it was a good thing he’d slept; waiting wasn’t his strong suit and Roadhog definitely would’ve killed him when he whined too much. Oh well! He’d slept, he was refreshed, and Roadhog got a few well-deserved hours without the sound of his voice. Speaking of which--

“Oi, Roadie, after we bust up this joint, whatcha wanna spend the money on, eh? You got plans? Betcha do. You’ve always got plans.” He cackled as an idea suddenly formed in his head. Nudging Roadhog hard with his elbow he snickered, “gonna invest in stocks ‘cause you’re risky? Oh! Oh! Or are ya gonn’ open some kinda big fancy four hundred one _ck_?”

“It’s pronounced ‘401- _K_ ’, and obviously not. Besides, that's the American setup.”

“You would know where it's from. I just heard it once n’ thought they was bein’ pretentious saying it like that.” Junkrat laughed, voice ringing loudly in the stillness of the night. “But course you wouldn’t. ‘Cause you’re like me, n’ people like us don’t do prissy shit like that, right?” Without waiting for a reply he answered himself. “Right!”

“Keep your voice down.”

“Lame.” He stuck out his tongue, adjusting where the strap of his bag was cutting into his shoulder  “Anyone hearin’ me’ll just think I'm drunk, Roadie, no worries.”

“Keep it down anyway.”

Junkrat sighed exaggeratedly and flopped against Roadhog's huge arm as they walked along. “Okay, okay, but only for you~!” He gave a wink so staged it should've been audible and laughed, pushing off to stroll along in front.

The bank itself was not a large building but it was lavishly decorated with pillars and trim of green and white glass banded together as imitation malachite. Roadhog stood for a moment to take it in, but Junkrat had little interest in the structure while it was still standing.

“Remember: take it easy. We're not here to show off.” Roadhog warned, catching Junkrat's arm before he could scurry off and get carried away.

“I know that!” He tugged his arm and Hog let him go. “You’re not me mum.”

Roadhog grunted.

“Not me dad either.”

Another grunt.

Giggling, “unless you wanna be. You into that? Howzabout we blow this place, _daddy?_ ”

Roadhog was huge so it wasn’t fair for him to be so fast, but fast he was. He hoisted Junkrat into the air by one of his upper arms, dangling him so their faces were even. He didn’t even have to speak before Junkrat was tittering out apologies and trying to pry his arm free.

“I was outta line, I’m sorry! Didn’t mean it, mate, it was a joke-- a bad joke, sure, sure! Lemme down, there’s a darling, eh? C’mon, we gotta job--”

Hog let him go. Botching his landing, he hit the ground hard on his tailbone. He took a dazed moment to appreciate the view of Hog standing huge and tall above him before scrambling back to his feet. He made a show of brushing himself off and huffing, then hobbled away to get started.

 

The ground was soft. The bank had been built on the accumulated sand and dust rather than take the time and money to dig down to the bedrock. That was just fine with Junkrat. It took less to disturb the regolith than it would have to blow out solid rock. When they had first gotten to town and parked their bike, they had gone in under the pretense of opening an account. The town wasn’t junker operated, but it was too close to junker territory to be completely safe from junkers wandering in regularly. They had been treated politely, though the man they spoke with was obviously sweating profusely. It had been an informative trip. Roadhog had been able to get quite a detailed look around while Junkrat talked the bank representative into a frenzy. With rapid fire questions, wild gesticulations, obnoxious laugh, and tendency to get bent out of shape at the smallest thing, Junkrat’s personality had served as a perfect tool to irritate everyone in the room. With that little visit, they had established where everything of value was kept-- or at least close enough.

Junkrat crept around the building to the back entrance they'd found earlier. It was easy as anything to slip behind the camera and jostle it out of position. Then just a small blow to the lock and presto! They were in.

“Roadie,” Junkrat called as softly as he could, “gimme one of your smoke bombs, wouldja?”

Roadhog came around the corner, pulling one free and handing it over. Junkrat set it off, tossing it carefully through the door. The laser lights set up to detect intruders shown brightly in the fog.

“I'm goin’ in,” Rat grinned. “I’ll make this place a lil’ more _hogspitable_ , shall I?”

He disappeared, cackling, into the fog. The laser beams were easy for him to dodge. He was dangerously thin despite Hog's attempts to round him out some (it had made a difference but only a small one) and quite flexible. He'd had to bend, twist, and contort himself in all kinds of ways to hide successfully. All part of survival.

As the dust began to clear, Junkrat looked back to the door at Roadhog.

“Oi, Roadie, you watching me moves? Think I coulda been a ballerina or some shit, eh? I'm so graceful.”

“Hardly,” Roadhog scoffed from the door. “You look like an idiot.”

Junkrat tutted and shook his head, “you just don't appreciate what's really beautiful. That's /me/ in case my cleverness was too subtle for you to notice.”

“If you have ever been clever it's been too subtle for me to notice.”

“You're awfully talkative tonight, pig face,” Junkrat grumbled. “Why don't you waste your breath on something other than talking shit about me?”

“This is more fun.”

“Jackass.”

Roadhog chuckled, low and hardly audible across the space between them. Junkrat liked the way it made him shiver. He wanted to make it happen again. He spotted what looked like a control panel and grinned.

“Think I got it, big guy. Oi, watch me close, I'mma do one of those fancy spins like what them dancers do.”

Up on the toes of one foot, he raised his other leg up and did a spin-- actually graceful, actually in good form-- before his body went spinning through one of the beams of light.

The lights blinded him as they flashed on at once, alarm blaring jarringly into what had been quiet. Unbalanced and surprised, he toppled over. Roadhog barrelled in, snatching Junkrat off the ground by his rip tire and dropping him on his feet. They ran together to the safe. Roadhog grabbed the handle in his hands and hefted hard, creaking the hinges as his muscles bulged and strained. The door had been built heartily to withstand most attacks, but it failed to be Hog proof. Most things did. The door snapped off with a loud groan of metal. He flung it a side and charged in. They piled cash into their bags, and Junkrat stuffed both of their pockets full to bursting. They were back out of the safe when they heard the sirens out front.

“Can we stay and play just a little while, Hoggy?” Junkrat asked, grinning manically. Roadhog was silent for a split second, then shook his head. Junkrat whined in disappointment, but turned to flee the scene anyway. He looked over his shoulder as the police burst through the door, guns up and ready. Omnics. Furious, he turned to yell at Roadhog but slammed into him instead. Roadhog had already seen. He was standing, rigid, and even with the mask covering his face completely, Junkrat knew he was glowering.

“Let's just show these bastards what we think of scrap heaps like them wearin’ uniforms, eh, Roadhog?” He asked again, venom in every word as the Omnics drew nearer. Rather than answer, Roadhog growled, loud, low, and dangerous, and his hook went shooting out at the lead Omnic. It got hit hard in the core, falling back with the impact before Hog jerked it back. He caught it with one hand wrapped all around its head, crushing it into splinters before tossing it aside. Bullets came soaring in their direction and Omnic voices buzzed at them like metallic wasps. Hog seized Junkrat round the middle and dove to one side for cover. He snatched up the discarded safe door and slammed it between the two of them and the Omnic officers.

“Close your eyes a minute, big guy,” Junkrat urged, tossing and catching one of his little devices with one hand. Roadhog grunted and Rat assumed it was agreement. He launched the flash bang hard around their makeshift shield, ducking his head and covering his ears. His eyelids still lit up like it was daylight and the resulting bang could still be heard loud and clear over the alarm and through his fingers. Jumping back to his feet, he hurled grenades into the bewildered crowd. Bodies went flying with startled cries of pain, slamming into walls and the ceiling. Junkrat giggled, absolutely delighted as the Omnics broke into pieces and cracked deeply. There was a hand on his shoulder urging him back toward the door, and he begrudgingly followed only after seeing more cars arriving on the scene.

The two of them sprinted into the darkness. Junkrat followed closely behind Roadhog until they reached the bike.

“Not sticking around?”

“...”

“Alright!” He threw his bag onto the floor of his side car and jumped in after it. “Let's hit it!”

The motorcycle roared to life and Roadhog steered them through the streets and out the far end of town. They sped passed the city limits and zoomed along into the growing darkness.

“Omnics as cops,” Junkrat sneered, glowering behind them at the fading lights of town, “what the fuck are those people thinking with shit like that? We shoulda taken more. We should've burned the whole city to the ground and shown 'em what it's like living in the dust.”

Roadhog didn't answer, but even in the darkness, Junkrat could tell his muscles were still taut with anger. He sighed, letting his own rage simmer on the back burner as he rearranged how he was sitting. He reached out, putting his hand on Roadhog's back, rubbing gently at the top of his spine.

“We'll never go back,” he promised over the wind. “We'll keep going forward until we find somewhere new and better.”

He didn't fully believe it. Everywhere was the same to him. But he knew Roadhog liked to hear it. He knew Roadhog had seen what the world was before Omnics turnes everything into shit, so he breathed optimistic words to encourage him. Roadhog cast him a sideways glance and he tried hard to smile in a warm way instead of looking crazed. He wasn't sure he managed but Roadhog nodded and Junkrat felt the ripple of muscles relaxing. He smiled and let his hand run down Roadhog's back as he leaned over to put his head on his thigh. When he wasn't pushed away, he smiled and closed his eyes. Ignoring the sharp twinge under his ribs as he rattled against the edge of the sidecar, he was more comfortable than he could remember being in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple notes:  
> Finally updated the tags for what we have covered.  
> Just a warning: in the future there is going to be more sexual content and graphic violence/gore.  
> I'm not totally sure if I have conveyed this but Junkrat has both his legs right now.
> 
> Another heartfelt thanks to my Beta Reader who was honest when I showed my first draft (rushed and boring)  
> And a huge thanks to you, reading this now, for taking a chance on this story. I appreciate everyone's comments and support!


	4. Fueling Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to a gas station and fuel up.

They drove for hours, the wind seeming to calm Roadhog down the farther they got from the omnic patrolled town. Junkrat didn’t remember drifting off, but the bike stopping and shutting down jerked him back awake. He yawned and pushed off Hog’s leg so he could sit up straight and look around. Nothing as far as the eye could see.

“We campin’ out tonight?”

Roadhog grunted and swung himself off the bike. Junkrat giggled as the motorcycle shifted, rising and rocking slightly as it’s burden was lifted. Kick-stand in place, Roadhog flipped open the saddlebags and started pulling their gear out. Junkrat stood, stretched, then hopped out of the sidecar.

“Gonna set us up a perimeter.” He snagged his gear and strode off into the night. Sleeping in the sidecar always required some recovery. Usually the movement used to set up a safe circle of traps and explosives stretched him enough to feel better. That night however, whenever he knelt down he was made aware of exactly which line of his ribcage had been pressed hard against the sidecar. He wondered if it had bruised. He giggled and whistled to himself as he finished up, excited to check it in the light of the fire Roadhog had just started. He placed the finishing touches on the last trap and swaggered back to his partner, flopping down unceremoniously on one of the sleeping bags. The fire was small, they always were to try being as subtle as possible, but it was good enough to heat their dinner and combat the sting of the cold night wind. Roadhog didn’t acknowledge his return, but Junkrat hadn’t expected him to. He was tending to the fire, keeping the plates he’d made up for them from the cans and packages they had picked up in town close to the fire. He turned them every so often to warm things evenly. Junkrat watched him, smile twisting his lips as he ran his fingers repeatedly over the definitely bruised line across his middle.

“It gonna take much longer? Settin’ traps makes me hungry.”

Roadhog’s head twitched ever so slightly in the way that meant he had shot Junkrat a reproachful look before going back to dinner.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m not bein’ impatient or anything I was just askin’.” Junkrat answered the silent accusation with a wave of the hand not trying to darken his bruising. He turned his attention to the sky instead. It was a light night that night, the clouds overhead were light, almost white, and glowing like they did sometimes. Junkrat didn’t understand the sky. Roadhog had said once that it wasn’t cloud cover, but he couldn’t remember what he meant.

“Oi, Roadie,” Junkrat started again, keeping his eyes up. He knew Roadhog would be giving him the look he always got if he started talking without laughing. It made his insides churn and made him feel like giggling. “Roadie, you said it ain’t clouds what’s covering the sky, didn’t you? Something like that? What is it? I thought it was clouds.”

Suddenly wondering if he had made the hardly-remembered conversation up completely, he looked back at Roadhog with a frown.

“You said that, right? I already asked you somethin’ like this?” Roadhog nodded. Junkrat nodded too. “Right… thought so… can’t remember what you said.”

“It’s smog,” Roadhog answered, turning his attention skyward as well. “Been constant since shit blew up. It didn’t used to be like that. A night like this would’ve been clear, and we would see the moon and stars.”

Junkrat hummed. He had seen drawings of what the night sky had looked like before, but had never seen it for himself. He stared at the sky and tried to imagine it as anything other than the white-gray haze that blocked the stars yet let the sun shine through, dazzling and loud in how bright and hot it was.

“You like it? The moon n’ stars n’ whatnot?”

Roadhog grunted. It meant yes.

“You miss it?”

A pause, then another affirmative sound.

“Then I want to see it,” Junkrat stated firmly. “I’ll blow a hole in the sky and bring back the moon and the stars and I’ll make the whole sky clear again.”

“More explosives are probably not the answer.”

Junkrat laughed, lying back and resting his head on his hands. “Nah, maybe not. Still, there’s gotta be somethin’ to make the not-clouds fuck off for awhile. How long you think it can last?”

“It’s been decades,” Roadhog answered, and Junkrat’s throat constricted to hear the undertone of sadness, longing, in Hog’s voice, “so I imagine it’ll last a long, long time.”

They lapsed into silence again. Junkrat continued scheming how he could tear apart the pollution long enough to show Roadhog the sky again, long enough to see for himself what he’d been missing.

After a time, Roadhog pulled the plates away from the fire and got Junkrat’s attention so they could eat.

“Metal hand comes in handy for shit like this, don’t it?” Junkrat laughed, holding the still-hot plate with his right hand. “No worryin’ about getting burnt or something.”

Roadhog’s noise was noncommittal, uninterested, and the kind of sound Junkrat associates with stories he’s forgotten he’s already told. He turned his attention to the food instead of trying to talk more.

When they were finished eating, Junkrat was prepared to stretch out in his sleeping bag and shut things out for a few hours, but Roadhog beat him to it.

“You take first watch,” his voice grumbled as he settled himself in his own sleeping gear. It was made special for him; huge, thick, and warm. Junkrat whined, but could only argue for show: he’d slept for he didn’t even know how long while they were driving and since Hog flat-out refused to let Rat drive the hog, taking first watch was probably the least he could do. 50/50 and all that. Junkrat had to pull his own weight too. Which would, of course, make their arrangement not at all close to splitting things halfsies but that would probably be fine. Roadhog would get most of it. Junkrat brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on them as he watched Roadhog get comfortable. When Roadhog settled in, Junkrat continued staring for he didn’t know how long. The quiet was starting to get at him. He was itching to blow something up, to tinker with his arm, to talk to himself to keep the silence at bay, but Roadhog always got pissy if Junkrat kept him up with his noise. The crackling of the fire was soft and Junkrat tried to latch onto it, staring at the bright flames until his eyes stung with lack of blinking. His fingers rubbed at the ground and left little divots in the dirt. His eyes started to unfocus as he became simultaneously hyper aware of and detached from his body. He felt his pulse through his whole body, felt his lungs expand and contract as he had to tell his brain to work them, felt his throat bobbing as he swallowed, felt the dirt, softly abrasive under his skin. He felt too real. He didn’t feel real at all.

 

Roadhog’s hand was on the back of his neck, and therefore stretched down to his shoulder blades. He was saying something but the words didn't register as having meaning yet. The rumble was nice. Finally, Junkrat blinked, jerking back to himself with a start. He looked around wildly. It was morning, the sun was already shining over the horizon.

“Shit…” Junkrat muttered, tense. He’d drifted off again. He used to drift away a lot. He'd jolt back to himself suddenly, realizing time had flown by without any trace of what he'd been thinking. He'd lose hours at a time and be disoriented even longer as he scampered to a new hiding place. It was dangerous to be away from himself so long. It was the quiet that did him in.  
Roadhog didn't let him leave himself anymore if he could help it. He'd start drifting, sound muffling and sight unfocusing, and then Hog would be there to pull him back.

  
The first time Roadhog caught him had been awful.

It was early on in their partnership and one of their first nights camping on the outskirts of an abandoned ruin of a city. Roadhog had set them up a nice little campsite between crumbling walls that offered safety from the cold wind sweeping across the night. He’d been trying to get Junkrat to come and help. Junkrat hadn’t replied to any of his calls, just continued staring blankly at nothing. Thinking Junkrat was deliberately ignoring him, he'd simply hauled off and hit him (lightly as far as Roadhog punches went, but still enough Rat had tumbled onto the floor.) It brought him back fighting and furious; thrashing wildly in an attempt to get away. Even Hog had a difficult time getting a hold of him. He'd torn off the prosthetic and pinned Rat under himself until Junkrat's eyes lost their frenzy and he looked at the mask in confusion.  
"Feelin' frisky?" He'd giggled, giggling more when Hog shoved off with an irritated snort. Rat hadn't been giggling when Hog told him what happened. He'd been uncomfortable. He'd never faded out in front of someone before. Roadie knew how to handle it. Roadie knew everything, it seemed. He recognized the signs, seemed alert when Junkrat started holding too still or stopped talking for longer than usual without obvious cause. He was there, a hand on the back of his neck to ground him in his body and low humming to drive off the oppressive silence.  

 

The months of being kept inside himself in such a way made it easier, but now the humiliation bit the back of his throat. Junkrat was supposed to be on watch and he’d let his mind wander off. He couldn’t be trusted. He stood up, letting Roadhog’s hand fall off. Sometimes he wished Roadhog would punch him again; it was easier to stomach, easier to understand, than having such… affectionate? Kind? Intimate? touches to make things gentle, easy, manageable. It made his insides do weird things, made him feel special. Gross.

“What’re we doin’ today?” He asked, relief flooding him that his voice sounded normal. He’d been in his head much too much. No good came from him analyzing his feelings. “How we doin’ on petrol, eh? Don’t wanna run out of that in the desert again, do we?” He cackled, wandering around their campsite in a circle. “Remember that time? Bet you do since you’re the one hadta drag the bike to town.”

 Roadhog let him move on, and he was glad to forget the lapse.

 

The pair didn’t linger for much longer. Roadhog made breakfast, strong-armed Junkrat into eating all of it, then sent him around to collect all the traps he’d set up. When he returned, Roadhog had already finished packing up and loading the bike. Junkrat hopped into the sidecar, and grinned up at Hog when he was settled.

“Ready to roll, Roadie!”

“Next town isn’t too far off. We’ll fuel up.” Roadhog started up the engine and added, “get another room and count that cash we got.”

“Alrighty! Just like you, havin’ a plan.” He nudged Roadhog’s leg with his elbow and laughed, “find some restaurant and _pig out_ , eh? Can we?”

“Shut up,” Roadhog snorted. His amusement was evident. He started them off, bike gaining speed rapidly as they hurtled to their next stop.

\----

The first building that came into sight on the horizon turned out to be a gas station. Fortunate. Roadhog took care of filling up the bike, as well as a spare gas tank Junkrat didn’t remember they had, while Junkrat wandered inside to look at the little shop. Nothing was particularly eye-catching on the sparsely stocked shelves, but he was pleased to see the employees were all human. The other customers also human. No Omnics was better than even one, in his opinion.

Junkrat wandered back outside after meandering through the shop and made his way back to Roadhog.

“Almost finished?” He asked as he approached. As if on cue, the machine clicked and Roadhog started the process of wrapping up. Junkrat giggled, impressed and amused by his own spectacular timing-- a thought he immediately relayed aloud to Roadhog. A half-glance in his general direction was all he got in response.

“It's funny, mate,” Junkrat insisted loftily. “I'm fucking brilliant.”

Roadhog chuckled, actually chuckled, “keep telling that.”

“I think I like you better silent after all, ya cheeky cunt,” Junkrat retorted, voice waspish but face split in a wide grin.

“Doubt it,” Roadhog replied, holding out the now full gas for Junkrat to take and restow. He took it, holding it carefully as he looked at the bike. Shit… he couldn't remember where it went… had they really always had it?

“Right there,” Roadhog's voice cut through his grasps at fraying memory. He looked up to see a massive finger pointing at a spot shortly behind where the sidecar coupled with the bike.

“Right. O’course. I knew that.”

“Stay here. I'm gonna go piss.”

Roadhog walked passed, headed inside. A quick tap to his arm and a muttered 'thanks’ as he walked by, then Junkrat busied himself with putting the tank away again. He got comfortable in his sidecar after he was done, ignoring the fact that the beat up flatbed that had pulled up behind them was irked the hog was parked at the pump. The driver had leaned out the window to yell at him, voice growing angrier the longer he was ignored. Junkrat hummed to himself, eyes flicking to the glass doors. Roadhog would be on his way back soon so Junkrat didn't have to worry about dealing with anyone himself. Besides, Roadhog would kill him if he played with bombs at a gas station.

 

Junkrat jerked up as he was dragged hard out of the sidecar.

“I was talkin’ to you, you one-armed freak!” The man snarled. Rat’s brain lurched into threat assessment: the man was half a foot shorter than he was, but wider, stronger, and close-range. Gasoline was too flammable for this to be anything other than a hand-to-hand fight. He raised his arm, the right one, hand balling into a fist to punch the man off him. The angry little man was faster, stabbing into the metal with something that looked like a cross between a dirk and a screwdriver. A moment after it punctured the metal, it pulsed and Junkrat felt the electric current flash through the arm before the mechanisms locked up and stopped responding.

“What the--” He was cut off be a fist in the face. The man hit hard. Dazed, Junkrat swung his rigid metal hand forward anyway, slamming it into the man’s chest. The man stumbled back a few steps, his grip on Junkrat’s harness failed, separating the pair at last.

“Piece of shit,” the man growled, rubbing his chest. He reached into his flak jacket and whipped out a gun before Junkrat could do more than appraise: nice gun, not a scrap gun probably stolen. “Goddamn junker garbage! Don’t you fuck with m-e-hrk!”

The hook caught him in the stomach, spikes piercing through the jacket like butter. A jerk and the man was flying toward the doorway Roadhog was taking up. Roadhog caught him easily, palming his chest as he wrenched the hook out of the man’s body. Blood sprayed through the air, splattering the concrete. He was coughing, trying to say something, but Junkrat couldn’t hear the words. His ears were ringing, his breathing stopped, his eyes were locked on Roadhog whose mask was facing Junkrat rather than the man in his hand, he was almost aware of how stupid his grin was but his mind had zeroed in on locking the scene into his memory.

_Please let me keep this sight forever._

Roadhog started toward him, dragging the man he was carrying along behind him. He stopped a few feet from where Junkrat was leaning on the sidecar (to look cool, not because his knees were weak.)

“What did he do?” Roadhog asked, lifting the struggling body.

“He punched me in my pretty face, Roadie,” Junkrat pouted. He grinned wide, licking his bleeding lips. “Called me rude names. He was a right asshole.” His eyes stayed on Roadhog even as he addressed the stranger. “Isn't that right? Weren’t you an asshole?”

The man tried to choke out a response but Hog’s hand twitched, grip tightening, and cut off his air.

“What should I do with him, Boss?”

The ringing in his ears was turning into sirens. Someone must have called the cops when the brawl had started. They didn’t have much time to make their move judging by how close they sounded.

Junkrat giggled, pulling a grenade off his harness, tossing it and catching it one-handed. “Put ‘im back in his rust bucket and get ready to drive fast.”

Roadhog nodded, tucking his hook away again as he moved toward the guy’s flatbed. He tossed the guy carelessly into the back, then went to get the motorcycle running. Junkrat hopped up into the back, crouching over the bleeding mess of a harasser.

“Don’t pick on people, ya dick-faced twat,” he cooed, shoving the grenade in his mouth. “Never know what kinda fucked up folks you might run into.” He pulled the pin and hopped down, scampering over to his sidecar. As soon as he was in, Roadhog kicked off and they sped away. Junkrat settled in as they put distance between themselves and the gas station, humming to himself just to feel the vibrations in his throat since he couldn’t hear the sound over the wind. Roadhog kept checking the mirror for the explosion he was sure would be soon. It never came.

 

The sun was riding dangerously close to the horizon when they finally stopped. With the events at the gas station, they hadn’t stopped in the town they had planned; too close. Once they were safely in their room, Roadhog fixed Junkrat with a hard look as he settled on the floor and surrounded himself with his usual tools for arm maintenance.

“Why didn’t it blow?”

“Huh? Why didn’t what?”

“The gas station.”

“Oh, that. ‘Cause I used a dud.”

“... Why?”

Junkrat shrugged, tugging off his arm to see about figuring out how to fix it. “He was just an asshole, he didn’t do any serious damage-- unless I can’t fix me arm. ‘Sides, the whole place was filled with people what didn’t have nothin’ to do with it. I’m not gonna take ‘em all out just ‘cause one idiot thought I was an easy target.”

Silence filled the room again as Junkrat used his teeth to pull the device he'd been attacked with free of the metal prosthetic. Putting his arm on his crossed legs, he spat the thing into his hand and turned it over curiously.

“I ain’t seen one of these before,” he commented idly, “don’t have a clue what it is. Felt like it mighta been some kinda EMP but I wouldn’t’ve thought that’d fuck my arm up so bad-- it’s not like it runs on electricity.” He turned his face to Roadhog, “check this thing out.”

He tossed it to his bodyguard, who looked it over wordlessly. Junkrat went back to his arm, grabbing a screwdriver so he could start opening up the outside paneling. Once the cover was off, he sighed. Most of the damage was centralized in one spot. Great because it meant he didn’t have to figure things out all over the place, a little frustrating because the damage in the area was more serious than a little stab wound should’ve been.

Roadhog sat down carefully in front of him, holding his hand out to trade Junkrat the weapon for his arm. Junkrat twiddled the thing in his fingers as Roadhog looked over the inside workings of his arm.

“It was an EMP,” Roadhog said after a bit, grabbing another screwdriver and starting the repairs himself. “He probably thought you were usin’ omnic parts.” He ignored Junkrat’s noise of disgust and kept going. “It didn’t have the right effect, but like you see here,” he gestured with the screwdriver at the general area of impact, “the close-range electric energy fried a lot of the smaller pieces.”

Junkrat nodded, leaning forward to look inside. He raised his arm to point, remembered his right hand was gone, and switched to use his left.

“That’s what it looked like to me, too, like here this lil’ buddy bent when he stabbed it, snapped those screws there, too, but the gear next to it looks like it melted outta shape. I don’t have any spares that size lyin’ around neither so I won’t be able to get this shit workin’ properly until I pick up more.”

“You wanna go scraping or see if we can buy 'em some place?” Roadhog asked without looking up from the work he'd taken from Junkrat.

“Dunno. Scrapin’s always done me right, but it was luck what got me them gears. If we can find a place here that's got good deals,” he nodded to the bags still bulging with cash, “I don't think it'd do harm to pick something up all official like.”

Roadhog didn't answer so Junkrat stretched and stood up. After loudly announcing his plans for the bathroom (and the subsequent using thereof) he returned to flop down on the mattress against which Hog was leaning. Slithering over the duvet on his belly, he rested his chin on Roadhog's shoulder to watch him work. He'd always had a knack for disregarding personal space and he was glad he'd worn Roadhog's don't-touch-me attitude down to nothing. It helped him keep centered to make contact with Hog sometimes. Remind himself he was alive, real, and safe as long as the money was good. They stayed like that for several minutes before Junkrat had to speak again.

“Since you're doin’ that, I'm gonna watch something, okay?” He pushed himself up so he could reach the remote, snuggling close so he could keep his head on Roadhog's shoulder (at a different angle) and see the TV screen. He flipped through the channels too quickly to register the images flashing in front of his eyes, volume low to lengthen the time it would take Hog to get pissed off about it.

 

Half an hour later, Roadhog shifted out from under Junkrat’s head and held out the arm. Sitting up, Junkrat took it and started reattaching it.

“It won’t work smoothly,” Roadhog told him as he started testing the fingers. He felt the mechanisms resisting, gears grinding awkwardly as they tried to spin without actually fitting well together anymore. “Things are too banged up and some screws are missing. Don’t overuse it and it should hold ‘til we can fix it right”

Junkrat grinned at him, letting his arm fall to the bedspread. “Thanks, Hoggie~ takin’ such good care of me. Doin’ me chores ain’t gonna getcha a raise though.” He laughed, Roadhog’s eye roll evident despite the mask. Roadhog piled all the tools back into the little box Junkrat kept them in, then reached over and dragged their cash bags over. Tossing Junkrat’s at him (snorting bemusedly when the bag landed on Junkrat’s stomach, effectively winding him) he unzipped his own. “Start counting.”

They’d made quite a bundle. Junkrat was ecstatic; he’d never had that much money before in his life-- never seen that much in one place actually. Working with Roadhog really was paying off. He stretched out on the bed with a smile, turning his head sideways to watch his partner storing their bags. He frowned when Hog paused, tapping his fingers on the desk. He must have been thinking…

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, Hoggie?” Junkrat asked curiously. “Always do that finger thing when you’ve got somethin’ on your mind you wanna say.”

No response.

“Having trouble comin’ up with words, are ya? Take your time, eh? I’m a patient man.”

Roadhog chuckled, shaking his head. He strode closer, shoving Junkrat carelessly onto the edge of the bed so he could sit on the edge of the mattress. Junkrat hopped up, crossing his legs to watch Hog. Whatever it was seemed important.

“I think we should leave Australia.”

Junkrat blinked. “Wot?”

“You said you want to find a buyer for whatever shit you found, right? I doubt there’s anyone here who can pay what someone somewhere else could. I think we should leave and find someone who can make it worth our while.”

Junkrat looked at him in awe for several moments. “I ain’t never left before… You?”

“I’m from New Zealand.”

“... is that far…?”

Roadhog’s mask, while logically incapable of expressions, looked so completely judgmental it made Junkrat recoil, waiting to be hit for his stupid question. Instead, Roadhog sighed, and shook his head.

“It’s not. Gotta show you a map sometime.”

Junkrat relaxed, starting to grin again, “should be good! How you think we’ll get out?”

“We’ll head to Sydney and take a boat. It’s more likely we’ll get the bike out that way than taking a plane. Ships leave more often than planes anyway.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s hard to fly through the smog. They have to stay low for a long time after take off to try avoiding it.”

“Why’s that?”

After a rather thorough explanation of the aerodynamics surrounding air travel, Junkrat seemed satisfied and agreeable that a ship was the better choice. Sydney was well into ‘civilized’ Australia, well protected from junker mayhem by several hundred kilometers. Junkrat cackled, immediately launching into plans of excitement: burn their way through. Show whatever suits holed up in their own asses with their riches and their fancy, sturdy buildings a taste of what the rest of the country was used to.

“Blowin’ everything sky high,” Junkrat was saying, “see how much nicer their shit looks in flames. Taking what we want, what they _owe_ us for not helpin’ anyone out earlier--selfish cunts. All the way ‘til we hit Sydney! Sounds like fun, don’t it?”

“A lot of fun, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my Beta Reader, and to all my other readers. I appreciate your support and your patience!
> 
> Sorry my updates are rather sporadic. The chapters keep getting longer and at the moment most of the writing is done on my phone. Hopefully I'll get my laptop sorted out soon, then maybe I'll get to update faster.
> 
> mrthirst.tumblr.com Come talk to me about Roadrat and things!!


	5. Scraping

Finding most of the parts for Junkrat's arm ended up being easier than either of them had expected. The little town they had picked had an impressive hardware store. Junkrat had amused himself to no end running wildly through the isles, bringing things back to show off excitedly as Roadhog meandered along and looked seriously for pieces they could use. He was glad when his continued indifference finally wore away at Junkrat's excitement so he trudged alongside him. Roadhog could do good repair work on the arm, but Junkrat knew it far more intimately, could disassemble it completely and put it together in working order all over again. Hog needed him focused so they wouldn't miss anything.

Once Junkrat's attention was being put to good use, they were able to gather all the small inner workings they needed. All they were going to have to scrap was the outside plating.

“Shouldn't be too bad,” Junkrat said when they were in line, “got all me parts that way the first few times.”

To reward him for his eventual focus, Roadhog bought him a candy bar. He kept his eyes strictly above Junkrat's face as the bomber expressed his excitement enthusiastically. Roadhog didn't want to see the glowing look on Rat's face, the warm glittering in his eyes, nor the genuine smile. It wrenched at his guts that a man Junkrat's age would be so ecstatic over something so small. If things were different, if Hog's second home hadn't fallen into discord, Rat would have eaten candy all the time, would surely have made himself sick on it. It wouldn't be a reward: it'd be commonplace. His blood bubbled with anger on Junkrat's behalf-- for everyone who had grown up in unlivable conditions.

“Uh, hey, Roadie,” Junkrat's nervous voice broke through his brooding, “sorry 'bout acting crazy in there, and uh, breakin’ my arm in the first place. I'll share my candy if you stop bein’ mad at me.”

Roadhog looked down at him, seeing the nervous grin and the hastily offered chocolate bar. Even with the mask  Junkrat always seemed to pick up how Roadhog was feeling… he just often didn't guess the 'why’ correctly.

“Wasn't about you,” Roadhog sighed at length, looking forward again and continuing their way back to their room. “And you didn’t break it. Eat it yourself.”

Junkrat’s nervous giggles were soft as he nudged Roadhog’s arm with his elbow. “If you say so. Woulda thought you might wanna get in on this candy action.” The sound of a wrapper and the tell tale sounds of Junkrat taking a bite. 

“Ooh~!”

Suddenly Rat was on him, scrambling for his attention. Hands tugged at his arms, pawing at his chest and Rat tugged his way in front.   
“Roadie, Roadie!” His eyes were huge and his grin was bright as he held up the bar. “Roadie, you gotta try this! You gotta take a lil’ bite! I ain’t ever had this kind before! You had it? Roadie, it’s good, it’s good, try some!”

“Get off,” Roadhog grunted, shoving him away. He hadn’t pushed hard and it only took Junkrat a few steps to recover.

“Aww, don’t be like that. I’m tryna share! It’s called bein’ a gentleman.”

Roadhog shook his head and kept walking, ignoring Junkrat as he continued on about his own virtues. By the time the two of them reached their room, his rambling had turned to their future, their new jobs, the huge amount of cash they would acquire.

“We can spread it out all over the floor roll around naked,” Junkrat cackled, sweeping his hand in front of him as if showing off wealth only he could see.

Roadhog snorted, lips curving into an amused smile behind the mask. “Definitely sounds like something you would do.”

“You'd do it with me,” Junkrat answered, immediate and confident. “I know how you like cash,” his eyes flicked up and down Roadhog's body with a dangerous glint. “You'd have fun. You love your fat stacks even more than me.”

Roadhog wasn't sure if that meant more than Junkrat loved it or more than he loved Junkrat, but it didn't matter in the long run: he was determined either way was right.

 

“What's for lunch anyways? I wanna eat before starting on me arm again. Want this baby to be back in action as soon as possible so we can start rolling on outta here.” Junkrat was saying as they finally arrived in their room.

“Up to you. Eat what you want.”

Junkrat groaned. Evidently he’d been hoping Roadhog would make something for both of them. He dropped his hardware bag onto the floor and said something about a vending machine in the lobby before disappearing through their door. 

 

He wandered down the hall, dragging his metal fingers down the walls as he went. He liked the sound they made as they were dragged across the decoratively textured wall, the short gap when they hit the doorframes before connecting with the doors, then back to the wall. The lobby came into view and with it the vending machine that was Junkrat’s destination. Pressing his palms to the plexiglass front, he examined the brightly colored packages and pondered over what pictures looked best.

A hushed voice behind him uttered an awed, ‘whoa’, and he turned around to see what was going on. There was a man near the counter staring at him. Junkrat wondered if he’d been recognized, tensing as the man excused himself from the redheaded woman he was with and made his way closer. For a moment, they stared at each other, Junkrat wired and ready for a fight, the man wide-eyed and open mouthed. Then he shook himself and laughed nervously.

“S-sorry for staring!” He said in a rush, “it’s just that you’re really... good-looking.”

Junkrat snorted, leaning sideways against the machine as he laughed down at the now very red-faced man. “That right? Can’t fault ya for good taste.”

The man grinned, regaining some confidence from having been laughed at before. “I’m Range.”

“Junkrat.”

“So…” Range moved in closer, crowding Junkrat against the machine. He was significantly shorter but he didn’t seem to mind craning his neck up to see Junkrat smirking down at him. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Nothin’ that can’t wait if you’ve got something better in mind,” Junkrat purred. It’d been ages since he’d gotten off with someone else. Range wasn’t his type really, but he wasn’t getting any from a guy he happened to know who  _ was _ his type so it wouldn’t do any damage to ignore preferences for a night.

“Are you staying alone? ‘Cause I’m here with my, uh, cousin and I don’t think she’d be thrilled if we tried to meet up in my room.”

The idea of telling Roadhog to piss off for an hour or two made Junkrat laugh even as he shook his head to answer Range’s question. “Nah, I ain’t alone either, mate.”

Range’s hopeful expression fell. Junkrat’s hands came to fiddle with one of the buckles on one of many belts stretching across the man’s leather vest, tugging him another half-step closer. There was hardly any space between them now. Bending low so he was able to whisper into Range’s ear he purred, “there’s other places we could go if you wanna.” Hands touched his hips, settling comfortably above his low waistband. “I’m not gonna be missed for a few hours.”

 

To prove him wrong, a giant fist closed around his left arm and jerked him sideways so hard he almost knocked Range over. He looked up at Roadhog one he caught his balance again.

“Hey, Roadie,” he greeted, patting the back of the hand still holding painfully tightly to his arm. “I was just ‘bout to come up. I’m gonna hang out with Range for a bit, yeah? And uh, don’t wait up.” he waggled his eyebrows just in case his meaning hadn’t been clear. It didn’t seem to make a difference. Roadhog’s grip did not relinquish, nor did the mask turn to acknowledge he had spoken at all; the eyes were still fixed on Range. Range didn’t look very pleased at the turn of events and was obviously uncomfortable about being stared down by Roadhog. Hog’s mask turned to Junkrat. After a moment of staring, filled with Junkrat’s second attempt to explain his plans, Roadhog turned and walked away, dragging Junkrat with him.

“Oi! What the hell is this?” Junkrat struggled, digging his heels into the ground and tugging at his arm. It made no difference unsurprisingly, but he didn’t give in. “Lemme go, you giant fuck!”

He continued struggling and screaming obscenities, furious at how familiar the situation was. Roadhog slammed their door behind them, tossing Junkrat farther in their room, and leaned against the door, arms crossed.

After catching his balance, Junkrat balled his fists and glowered at Roadhog. 

“What the fuck, Roadhog?” He snapped furiously, stomping closer. “You can’t keep blockin’ me like this if you ain’t gonna put out!”

His own statement gave him an idea. Roadhog could see Junkrat’s brain click as his attitude changed abruptly. He moved closer, slinking rather than stomping. His hands rested on the top of Roadhog’s stomach for a moment as he picked over his next words. The hands moved up, slid slowly over his chest and up to link fingers behind Hog’s neck.

“Speaking of puttin’ out… I think you should make it up to me~” He grinned, pressing himself against Hog’s huge gut. He licked his lips, grinning nervously. He’d pushed his limits before, but never quite like this. Hog might be paid to protect him but they both knew he had no qualms with knocking Junkrat around. “Whatcha say, baby? It’s been a long time for you too, hasn’t it? I’d notice if you were sneakin’ off with someone else.”

Large hands pried Junkrat’s fingers apart and pushed him away with a low grunt. Junkrat’s smirk vanished at once and he went back to glowering.

“That’s not fair, asshole,” he grumped, voice growing louder as his anger returned. “Why are you tryna hog me if you’re not even gonna use me either?” 

A pause. Then he laughed, “ha!  _ Hog _ me!” But his joke only distracted him for a short while before he choked off the laughter abruptly and refocused on Roadhog. Flinging his arms open wide, he shifted his weight and pulled a face. “Well? I’m waitin’ for an explanation.”

Roadhog stayed silent, still, and staring impassively at him through the mask. His refusal to participate pissed Junkrat off farther.

“Look here, you pig-cunted giant,” he snapped, charging into Roadhog’s space again, standing fully upright and jabbing his finger in Roadhog’s chest, “I’m the boss, right? No more of this bullshit, aight? Either let me fuck some stranger, or you do me up nice yourself. I’ll fuckin’ pop if it keeps going like this.”

“You’re too trusting.”

Junkrat blinked at the sudden response. “Wha..?”

“He dressed like a junker, talked like a junker,” Roadhog went on, “you really think he didn’t know who you were?”

“Who the fuck cares?” Junkrat whined. “Long as he got me off first, fuck if I care if he knows who I a--”

“My job,” Roadhog growled loudly, cutting off Junkrat’s complaints, “is to keep you alive. I can’t do that if you’re who knows where getting fucked up ‘cause you couldn’t keep your cock put away.”

“Fine! Come and watch then, make sure it ain’t any kinda funny business!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Junkrat clicked his tongue, “it’s that or you, mate. I haven’t been this long without a lay since I was a kid, and I ain’t gonna put up with it much longer.” He turned on his heel, kicking off his boots and taking a few steps to the bed. Over his shoulder, eyes not meeting Roadhog’s, he added in a lower voice, “think about it, alright? It’d prob’ly do you some good too.” Then he flopped onto the bed.

“I will.” Roadhog’s begrudging response was so soft Junkrat wasn’t sure if he had actually spoken or if Rat was imagining things. Probably the latter. Either way, he started working his shorts open. 

“I’m gonna take care of this me self. You can watch if you want, or fuck off to the bathroom again if it offends yer delicate sensibilities.”

His bodyguard hesitated and for a moment Junkrat thought he was actually going to stay, but then he grunted and strode purposefully to shut himself away again. 

“I’ll call you when I’m done,” Junkrat promised before the door closed. Damn asshole. As his fingers wrapped around his cock, he sighed, and let his thoughts of Roadhog twist into something a little more pleasant than their current situation.

 

“Roadie,” he called sweetly, banging on the door with his metal hand once he was finished, “I’m all finished~” He almost added a ‘no thanks to you’, but as he’d thought of nothing else that wouldn’t have been entirely honest. The door opened and Roadhog emerged slowly. As they started settling in normally again, Junkrat broke the silence as he threw himself onto the bed. “I’m still hungry, y’know, n’ seein’ as it’s all your fault I didn’t getta eat earlier and you didn’t blow me or nothing (like a gentleman woulda done), you gotta make lunch.”

He got an annoyed, inaudible grumble in response, but Hog started hunting around for some food they had packed for Junkrat anyway. It made him giggle happily, stretching out on the duvet as he watched Roadhog getting a meal together. When Roadhog approached, Junkrat pushed himself into a sitting position, reaching out to take the plate. Warmth blossomed in his chest as he grinned widely up at Roadhog, and he wasn’t sure where it had come from or why. Rather than dwell on it, he started devouring his meal, not really tasting it as he started rambling about their cross-country trip to Sydney. There was a lot of planning to do. Roadhog nudged him to the edge of the bed before sitting as well. He answered questions, helped fill in little gaps in Junkrat’s plans, and told him about areas he knew that would be good to hit up on route. 

“Then we’ll be ready to sail on outta here,” Junkrat cackled, licking off his fingers as they finished their rudimentary outline of the trip. “Where we gonna go anyways? You wanna go back to… uh… what was it? New… No, don’t tell me, I’ll remember it. Zoo… Ah! No, it’s Zealand, right? You wanna go back to your Zealand?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Wanna tell me why?”

“No.”

“Later then,” Junkrat said with a shrug. “We’ve got time to choose anyways, don’t we? If we stop by all these places we’re gonna be spendin’ weeks hiding from cops. Gotta go scrap another plate for me arm, then we’ll get to go out and play, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Junkrat grinned, flopping over Roadhog’s stomach. “Can’t wait, mate.”

 

The next morning, Junkrat wakes to find himself still sprawled on top of Roadhog’s belly. He stretches, yawns, then realizes Roadhog is already awake. He laughs, smaking Roadhog’s stomach lightly as he slides off.

“Coulda woken me, Roadie,” he giggles, rubbing the pig tattoo absently. Roadhog didn’t answer, but that was hardly a surprise. He traced the outline of the pig, losing focus on anything other than his finger and the rise and fall of Roadhog’s stomach. Quiet moments like this were extremely rare. It made him feel soft. With a twitch, he jerked himself out of the calm stupor and smacked Hog’s stomach again, giggling as it jiggled. He swung one leg over Roadhog’s thighs, leaning forward so he was pressed against the hot swell of Hog’s belly.

“If ya didn’t wanna move me, I can think of some stuff we can do,” he waggled his eyebrows, snickering. The fact that Roadhog had not beaten his ass senseless for being flirtatious gave him the confidence to keep pushing. Hog snorted in response, and Junkrat rolled his eyes. “If you wanted me to be quiet, I can  _ also  _ think of some stuff for that.”

“Thinkin’ two things at once seems like a lot for you.”

Junkrat cackled, flopping heavily onto Roadhog as he laughed with his whole body. Roadhog teasing him so casually made his chest swell. “Piss off, Roadie, you know what I’m talkin’ about.”

Roadhog’s hand brushed against his side and Junkrat’s breath caught in his throat. A thumb rubbed little circles on his ribcage; his whole body was wired with the feel of it, tense and shivery and waiting, hoping. He was thinking about it, wasn’t it? Roadhog was thinking about taking Junkrat up on it. Just as he opened his mouth to ask, Roadhog pushed him off and to the side. He bounced gracelessly on the sliver of mattress that was open.

“Asshole,” Junkrat grumbled, elbowing Roadhog hard in the arm. “What a fuckin’ cock tease you are.”

Roadhog chuckled, and that alone made Junkrat smile again.

“Anyway, get up, fatass, we’ve gotta go scrapin’!”

Roadhog shoved him off the bed, laughing when he hit the ground, but that was the only punishment he got for being rude. Roadhog knew it wasn’t serious-- Junkrat had gone ape shit on a girl once because she’d called Roadhog fat. It had been a strong reminder that the idea “never hit a girl” had definitely been destroyed with the rest of Australia. 

They packed up their belongings and headed out. There was a scrap yard in a town they could reach in roughly an hour. Junkrat was so focused on Roadhog, on making jokes and talking animatedly about upgrades he would love for his arm if he ever got the supplies for it that he didn’t ask if they could blow anything up--something Roadhog actually appreciated. He hoped they would be able to lie low long enough to have at least a week without police finding their trail again. Roadhog noticed Range coming down the hallway from the stairwell. Range’s face lit up to see Junkrat, but he faltered at the sight of Roadhog. Junkrat hadn’t seen him, and if Hog ruffled his hair it was because he felt like it and had nothing to do with the side effect that physical contact made Junkrat block out everything except Roadhog. If he felt satisfaction in watching Range’s hopeful expression fall to disappointment, it was because Roadhog was not kind to strangers and had absolutely nothing to do with the laughing junker now clinging to his arm as they walked out together.

 

The drive was uneventful, but blissfully shorter than most of the trips they had made recently. They passed a few abandoned settlements that Junkrat pointed at and shouted about as they went by. Over the wind Roadhog couldn’t hear him. He took that to mean it didn’t matter: he knew Junkrat would make himself be heard if it was of any real importance.

 

Once they entered town, Roadhog was immediately aware of the junkers on the streets. Their eyes followed the bike with an attention that did not bode well. Junkrat clambered up, clinging desperately to Roadhog’s vest so he wouldn’t fall off.

“These assholes is starin’, Roadie, you think they wanna start some shit?” He muttered into Roadhog’s ear. Roadhog grunted, Junkrat close enough to hear him over the engine. “You wanna stay n’ play? We haven’t had a good tussle in a while.”

Roadhog considered it seriously, it might be fun, but his eyes flicked down to Junkrat’s metal hand. They hadn’t taken much time to work on it in the room since they didn’t have the proper plating yet. He could tell the fingers were still stiff and any drastic movement forced on the wrist would just grind things up inside even more. He shook his head and in response to Junkrat’s put out expression said, “tell you later. Sit down, we’re getting out of here.”

Junkrat frowned, but obeyed anyway, crouching low in his sidecar so he had as much cover as possible in case any of the other junkers decided they weren’t as magnanimous as Roadhog. It didn’t come to that, which was both relieving and disappointing in equal measure as they cleared the little town. After driving a while, Roadhog doubled back, giving the town a wide berth as they headed back the way they had come. He skipped the first rundown town skeleton they had passed and pulled into the second a few dozen miles later. 

“Think this’ll be good?” Junkrat asked in a low voice, eyes darting rapidly around the area. “Don’t think anyone’d come back this way, eh? We’d’a seen ‘em comin’ after us from that other town, wouldn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Roadhog replied, cutting the engine and rolling his bike into one of the more sheltered building husks. 

“Are we campin’ here?” Junkrat slid out of the sidecar, stretching his arms over his head with a groan and many cracking joints.

“No. Figured we could find parts for your arm and get going. I don’t want to linger.”

“Alright, but we ain’t gonna be skipping out on more fights we’ll win, right? That’s not even gonna be fun for a minute.”

“When your arm is fixed and I don’t have to carry you as much we won’t.”

Junkrat huffed indignantly, backhanding Roadhog’s arm in protest. “Ya don’t carry me, asshole, I can hold me own!”

Roadhog smiled and even with the mask on it seemed Junkrat perked up at the change. It was freaky, the times when the mask seemed to hide nothing. “Sure,” Roadhog shrugged. “Let’s get looking.”

They didn’t bother with traps, deciding it would extend their stay longer than strictly necessary. There weren’t a lot of remains to search through so they figured unless something went very, very wrong they would be able to finish up and roll out without needing them. The area proved useful for ammunition for Hog’s scrap gun, but provided nothing Junkrat thought he could use on his arm. The pair hopped back on the bike and drove to one of the other settlements they passed. It was also worthless. The third was equally as helpful. 

“Fuck this,” Junkrat grumbled, clambering out of the sidecar for the fourth time. “Who needs a damn cover plate anyways? What good’s it gonna do?”

“Protection from sand, water, atta--”

“Yeah, yeah, shut up already!” Junkrat snapped, waving off Roadhog’s unnecessary and certainly unwanted answer. “Just sick of this shit. We’re gonna be at it all night at this rate-- it’s not even a tricky fix! I’da thought it’d been found by now.”

He usually liked scraping well enough, and it wasn’t as if the day had been a total loss. They’d found plenty for Roadhog’s gun, some really fun shrapnel for Junkrat to tinker with, and even a couple parts for the bike; but he hated the stiffness in his hand. He hated the grinding noise the bent gears made as he tried to force the hand to move the way he needed. Something had snapped and rendered his pinky and ring fingers completely immobile. He just wanted to get everything together so he could fix it before dark, but the sun was already nearing the horizon. The fifth town was the answer. Finally, with a triumphant whoop, Junkrat emerged from a heap of scrapped metal with a piece that could easily be molded into what he needed. 

The decision was to drive away from the nice little encampment. A cliff-face was in view, sheer and ominous, and Roadhog deemed it a more suitable cover than the human-made settlement. Most people tended to flock toward buildings, regardless of how obviously abandoned they were. They were lucky enough to find a cave, devoid of vicious animals, that was large enough to comfortably house them and the bike. Roadhog said he didn’t want to risk a fire and only when the sun had finished setting did he let Junkrat creep outside under cover of darkness to set traps.

“You take first watch, ‘kay?” Junkrat said as he came back inside and plopped on the rocky ground next to Roadhog. “I wanna be up early n’ get a good start on fixin’ this junk.” He pulled off his arm, flexing his elbow with a sigh. Roadhog grunted and Junkrat smiled at him. “Great, thanks, Roadie.”

He lay down, stretched, and curled up with his back pressed against Roadhog’s thigh. It was warm. It was comforting. He liked knowing Roadhog was there, Roadhog was alive, and Roadhog was on his side.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to everyone who is reading this! I've read every comment and they all made me smile. I'm hoping to have time to actually reply to more of them again! Thank you for your patience and your support.  
> Apologies for being negligent of the "graphic depictions of violence" tag. I really don't feel I've done anything particularly graphic.  
> I keep feeling like there are tags I should update but I never remember them when I'm actually writing, whoops. If you see anything you think I should have tagged, please let me know!  
> I have a lot of ideas for more Roadrat AUs and things so stay tuned for those!  
> If you have questions, comments, concerns, requests, or just want to talk about headcanons and things, I'm over at mrthirst.tumblr.com.
> 
> Thank you!


	6. Getting Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for more graphic violence than has been in this fic so far.

\-----

 

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of the most fun and excitement Junkrat had ever had. They were doing exactly what he’d hoped when Roadhog had joined him: stealing, looting, blasting Omnics into pieces too small to scrap, raising corrupt businesses to the ground. The exhilaration of the explosions lit a fire in his blood. Junkrat felt like his nerves were made of gunpowder, the sparks of excitement tearing through him like lightning and setting him ablaze with wild glee. Roadhog didn’t restrain Junkrat nearly as much anymore, letting him run amuck, pick fights, and taking as much as he could carry from any building he entered (and subsequently grounded.) It didn’t matter that they couldn’t transport everything, most of what Junkrat stole he didn’t even want. He took it because he could, because it felt good to have his hands overflowing with things taken from people who had more concern for stockpiling their own money than the children dropping dead on their doorsteps. 

“What’s it matter kids like you don’t have food?” A man had shouted when Junkrat had said as much to Roadhog. He was shaking in his place in the corner with hands above his head, and his fear was fueling his mouth. Junkrat fixed him with a stare, head tilted as the man yelled. “Even without our hard-earned merchandise you junkers never die! You’re like cockroaches! Pathetic! Thieving, murdering, and plundering, you’re disgusting! All you’re doing is holding Australia back from recovery-- giving all of us civilized folk a bad name! Just do the world a favor and die, you hideous, disgusting, disfigu--”

“Y’know,” Junkrat cut him off, voice lower than Roadhog had ever heard it. It carried a new kind of danger for Junkrat; fury boiling just below the surface rather than erupting immediately as usual. He slinked toward the man who finally seemed to realize what he was saying and to whom. “I don’t like your tone. Not. One. Bit.”

Junkrat blocked the man in the corner, looming over him at full height. He didn’t speak for a moment, but Roadhog could see every muscle in his body was tense, his fists were tight and shaking.

“Pieces of shit like you,” he growled, “are way worse than bastards like me. You think you got some kinda right to life just ‘cause you figured out how to fuck over other people first.”

He seized the whimpering man by the hair, holding his metal hand centimeters in front of his face.

“This,” he waggled the fingers before balling them into a fist, “is your fault.” He slammed the first into the man’s face. Even from across the room, Roadhog heard the snap of cartilage over the inaudible whimpering and pleading. The man was desperately trying to claw Junkrat off, but he didn’t stand a chance; he’d probably never been in physical struggles like Junkrat had been born into. His fingers pawed at Junkrat’s face, trying to shove him away, trying to tear at his skin. Two were unlucky enough to push passed Junkrat’s lips. The choked, sobbing scream did not completely drown the crunch of vicious, jagged teeth separating the fingers from their hand. The man retracted his wounded arm, blubbering over the bleeding knuckles. He whimpered when Junkrat spit his fingers back at him, spraying his face with blood.

“Omnics blew this place to shit,” his voice was rising the longer he went on, “and fucked everything up fer people tryna live before.” He slammed his fist into the man’s stomach, letting him spit blood all over their chests. “And I hate ‘em for giving me this fucking shit wasteland to try livin’ in, n’ for fucking everything up for Roadie!”

Roadhog wished he had missed the way Junkrat’s voice cracked on his name, the tell-tale waver in his voice that meant Junkrat was crying, the way his body was shaking was giving him away as well.

“But fucks like you,” he snarled, vicious, furious, every ounce of bitterness in him flowing out at that moment, “are worse! Living just fucking peachy lives! Not takin’your heads outta your asses long enough to help anyone! Keeping yourselves rich and leaving the rest of us  to starve in the desert! You’ve got the fuckin’ balls to tell me it’s me own fault this cunt-sucking country’s bein’ held back  _ as if I owe it somethin’ _ for tryna kill me.”

He slammed the man’s head back into the wall, metal fingers caging the man’s wrist and squeezing until the bones cracked, snapped, and shattered under the pressure. Skin tore as the snapped ulna forced its way through the flesh. The man was screaming, tears and snot running down his face to join the blood on his chin. He was trying to beg, but his words were thick and incomprehensible-- his mouth was filled with too much blood, too many of his teeth were chipped or missing.

“If you gave any kinda shit ‘bout “this country” more than just tryna pass off blame,” he sneered, “you wouldn’t let kids die fer money you’re just gonna wipe yer ass with!”

Roadhog let him continue, crossing his arms across his chest as he watched Junkrat’s fists-- both of them now-- pummel every inch of the man in front of him. Bones splintered under the weight of Junkrat’s fury and the smell of blood trickled through the filters on Roadhog’s mask. The blows to his head were beginning to alter the shape of his skull, crown caving in and face contorting as cheekbones gave way under furious fists.  Junkrat didn’t notice the man die, and continued wailing on the corpse until Roadhog couldn’t watch him do so anymore.

“Junkrat,” he said softly, putting a hand on the blond’s shoulder. Junkrat jerked as if startled, blinking tear-filled up at Roadhog as if confused to why he was there. “He’s dead.”

Junkrat looked at the body he was holding up by the suit, then laughed and let it drop into a crumpled heap on the ground.

“Whoospie~” he giggled, weak and watery, wiping tears off his cheek with hands that smeared more blood than removed the tears. “Went a lil’ overboard there, I guess, eh?” He giggled again, rubbing his palms on his shorts and avoiding eye contact. Roadhog stared at him for a long few moments as he tried to surreptitiously stop his crying. Hog’s fingers twitched and something in his chest itched. He opened his arms, half-raised in a gentle invitation. Junkrat looked at him, bewildered, for several long moments as if he didn’t know what Hog was trying to do. His eyes flicked uncertainly over Hog’s mask, across his body, at his hands, then back up.

“C’mere, Rat.”

A tremor ran through Junkrat’s body and he bit his lip as his eyes welled up again. He shuffled nearer, hesitant and stiff like he was expecting to be hit. After another pause, half a glance at Roadhog’s mask, he pressed his forehead into Hog’s chest. He balled his fists lightly on Hog’s stomach, relaxing when thick arms wrapped around him. Junkrat sighed and leaned all of his meager weight into Roadhog, no longer supporting himself at all. He got lost in the warmth of Roadhog’s skin and his deep, steady breaths. How long the pair of them stood like that, Junkrat didn’t know; all he knew was Roadhog stood steady, holding him tightly until he was ready to move. He pushed back slowly, keeping close as he wiped his face one last time.

“Oi, Hoggie, I got an idea,” he grinned. 

 

 

The corpse that they left heaped, unrecognizable, in the corner had owned a store. A truck had been outside to make a delivery during their visit, and when the junkers opened the back they found it was filled with packaged food. The driver was trussed and left unconscious just inside the building.

The truck was ancient, but a large portion of transportation had to be after the Crisis. Older models had proved more easily fixed to functionality than newer ones. New equipment and products on which they relied had been targeted during the fighting, while the outdated transports were left to rust as they had already been doing for decades. 

Junkrat started scrambling up into the cab to examine the controls. Only when he started it did Roadhog feel the need to intervene. Junkrat didn’t know how to drive.

“Hey!” Junkrat shouted when Roadhog tugged him back out of the driver’s seat. “What’s this about? This is part’a the plan!”

“You don’t drive.”

Junkrat puffed his cheeks, blowing an indignant raspberry at his bodyguard. “Piss on that, Roadie! Look ‘ere: I know where I want to take this shit and I know how you are ‘bout leaving your hog places-- and about lettin’ me drive it.” Roadhog grimaced, making Junkrat laugh. “Exactly! So you follow on it while I drive this hunka junk on outta this shitty town, ‘ight?”

After another few moments of hesitation, Roadhog let go of his arm with a grunt. 

“This one is gas, this is the breaks,” he explained, pointing at the pedals, “make sure you're slow around corners or everything will tip.”

Junkrat nodded along as Roadhog continued to explain the controls and, with only minimal complaining, repeated the instructions twice out loud so Roadhog would know he understood. Junkrat wriggled on the seat, getting himself comfortable as Roadhog stepped back and closed the door for him. The window was open and Roadhog's hand curled around the pane. 

“Be careful,” he grumbled. Junkrat beamed at him, shifting so he was sideways on the seat, hanging out the window over Roadhog's hand. 

“Don't worry 'bout me, Roadie, I'll do it right nice.”

He didn't seem convinced. Junkrat pressed a quick kiss to Hog’s snout and ducked back into the cab. A quick pat on Roadhog's hand and he added, “besides, imagine how pretty it'd be if something like this blew up! You'd get a good show and wouldn't haveta follow me around no more.”

Roadhog grunted in offense, which made Junkrat laugh.

“I know, not funny. Don't worry, Roadie, I'm not gonna die driving one lil’ scrap bucket like this without payin’ ya first. C’mon, we're burnin’ petrol!”

After another brief hesitation, Roadhog patted Junkrat's chest through the open window before moving away from the cab and walking back to get his motorcycle ready to go.

They drove back the way they had come: away from Sydney. Roadhog followed the weaving semi as closely as he felt was safe, curious about the destination. Junkrat turned north and drove on. It was a little suspicious to Roadhog that they were driving so far. He’d thought Junkrat had a plan for keeping the food with them but they had been driving too far in the wrong direction. Roadhog wondered if he should make Junkrat pull over and explain the plan more thoroughly. 

Just as he was about to do so, the truck slowed and turned again. The area Junkrat was taking them to had been a national park. Roadhog remembered Mako visiting on several occasions. The large empty basins where lakes had been sparked old, bitter resentment from the past. Pushing that aside, he switched his focus to not rearending the truck.

 

Junkrat brought the truck to a halt just outside a crescent moon of little makeshift huts. The noise had made the villagers scatter, Junkrat was sure. Unbothered by the stillness of the ‘town’, he hopped out and had Roadhog pull open the back of the trailer. Snatching up an armful of the packages, Junkrat waltzed into the center of the semicircle.

“Anyone home?” He bellowed, dropping his load onto the ground. Something whizzed through the air at his head. He grabbed it and, in a split second realized what it was and threw it straight up. It exploded, showering him in sparks and smoke. He laughed, stooping down to investigate the little bits of hot metal that had been used. Voice still raised so the attacker(s) could hear him he said, “not too bad, but yer missin’ some components if you really wanna see it blow. I prob’ly wouldn’t even have lost my fingers if I’d been hangin’ on-- just woulda hurt like a bitch.”

After a moment, a girl stepped out from the brush where she had been hiding. She was glaring hard and carrying a machete. Junkrat grinned when he saw her, hands up in surrender even as he waggled his fingers to wave. It was hard to tell from the radiation how old anyone was, but Junkrat guessed she was no more than fourteen.

“Whatchu want?” She grumbled, keeping her distance warily.

“Brought ya some stuff,” Junkrat grinned, picking up one of the packages again. Her eyes widened and she looked momentarily excited before forcing her expression back into a scowl. “Nah, no reason for that,” Junkrat cackled, standing up again, “just doin’ me good deed for the day.”

She did not look convinced, but as Junkrat backed away, she moved forward until she could investigate the packaging. She found nothing suspicious and the time she had spent without food was obviously too great for her to maintain her defensive attitude. She ripped open the plastic and hesitantly tasted the food. After a few moments, she cast Junkrat a look, then looked over her shoulder and made some hand gestures to the bushes from which she had come. More people came creeping out of the brambles, all of whom were her age or younger. They scurried to the pile and snatched up the remaining food.

“There’s a bunch more,” Junkrat said, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder to point at the still open trailer. “Ration it some and it’ll last all of you for awhile. The only response he got was children without food running past him, skirting nervously around Roadhog, and surrounding the entrance. Two kids clambered inside and began passing packages to the children waiting on the ground outside. Whistling, Junkrat wandered over to stand next to Roadhog again.

“I would’ve expected you to keep it,” he said, watching Junkrat watch the kids tearing into the packages with starving teeth and grateful hands.

“Well yeah, I wanted to,” Junkrat answered with a shrug, “but I was thinkin’ ‘bout how I know now I can do it. Them kids dunno how to wrangle a truck that size, do they? At that age, I woulda killed someone to get me hands on that much food.” He looked up at Roadhog, his smile too small and soft, “now they don’t have to.”

Roadhog did not appreciate the pang that went through his chest as Junkrat turned back to the kids. Then he laughed, swatted Hog’s arm, and turned for the bike. “C’mon, Hoggie, let’s go have some more fun.”

The pair of them headed back to the motorcycle. Junkrat reclined in the sidecar, looking back at the children as Roadhog prepared to rev the bike to life. The girl who had come into the open first waved. Junkrat waved back, then an idea hit him.

“Oi, wait, wait a tick!” 

He scrambled out of the car, rooted aggressively through his back, then darted back to the girl. Roadhog couldn’t hear what they were saying, but Junkrat was gesturing with a grenade, pointing at parts as the girl nodded enthusiastically. He put the bomb into her hand, patted her head, then returned to the car.

“Tellin’ her how to do her bomb more effectively,” Junkrat shrugged in response to Roadhog’s questioning gaze. “She ain’t gonna protect anyone with wimpy shit like she was workin’ with.”

Roadhog let himself sigh that this was a world where it was a good idea to teach children how to make homemade explosives. Junkrat patted his leg, grinning up at him from the sidecar.

“Let’s ride, eh?”

Roadhog grunted, “yeah.”

The bike roared to life and they zoomed off. Roadhog decided to take a slightly different route back to where they had been. Though there was no evidence they had been followed or were being followed from the wild children, it was better to act on the side of safety. Or paranoia. They were essentially the same thing nowadays.

The two of them hadn’t been far east of the national park. The round-trip had only taken a little over half the day. Based on their interaction that morning, Roadhog figured it would be a better idea to camp out for the night rather than try their luck in town. They found a nice spot before dusk, and the remaining sunlight gave them plenty of time to set things up.

Roadhog pitched their waterproof tent while Junkrat darted around setting traps, giving them a large perimeter. They hadn’t tried to find any kind of structural protection, choosing the middle of a large, flat expanse. The most cover they would have here would be the scrubs struggling to stay alive in such an inhospitable environment. They would be able to see anyone nearer than the horizon as long as they went without a fire for the night. Most of their food was precooked and packaged, taken from the store before they had stolen the truck, so living without a fire for one night wouldn’t be a problem. It would be cold, but it was always cold at night. They had amassed quite a stock of thin but surprisingly warm blankets, ones that kept them from freezing and still didn’t take up huge amounts of their limited travel space.

Roadhog finished with his job first, sitting back on the dirt. His eyes fell on Junkrat, illuminated by the setting sun as he bobbed around setting his traps and burying mines. It sounded like he was whistling to himself as he worked, looking undeniably cheerful in his work even from a distance. He remembered earlier that day, the soft smile on Junkrat’s face when he explained why he was giving up the largest single amount of food he had ever seen, the hurt in his voice when he’d blamed the suit and the omnics for wrecking Roadhog’s life. It reminded him that Junkrat was young, far too young to go through even half of what he had been through; reminded him that even after everything, Junkrat still had a good heart, soft for people who were being made to suffer. Something painful and very, very Mako rose in Roadhog’s chest like bile and he wrenched his eyes off Junkrat as if looking away would help him push it back down.

Junkrat wiped sweat off his forehead as he slumped back to their campsite. He threw himself on the dirt next to Roadhog with a sigh. 

“We’re all safe now!” He grinned, stretching his arms over his head and giggling when his spine cracked loudly. “You gettin’ hungry? Don’t wanna rush you or nothin’, but I’m so hungry I could eat--” his eyes did a quick up and down of his bodyguard and he snickered-- “a _ hog _ .” Roadhog put his huge hand on Junkrat’s arm and shoved him over with a huff. Junkrat just stayed on the ground and laughed, wheezing until he inhaled, and subsequently choked on, a huge mouthful of dirt and sand. He gagged, rolled from his side to his stomach and propped himself up on his elbows to spit and drool into the dirt as he coughed. A low rumble came from beside him and he twisted in awe to look through swimming eyes at Roadhog laughing at him.

“Real nice,” Rat wheezed, spitting on the ground to try clearing his mouth. He pushed himself up and fixed his bodyguard with a dark look. “Not a nice way to treat a guy, is it? Didn’t do nothin’ to ya, fucker.”

Roadhog chortled quietly and Junkrat couldn't bring himself to pretend he was angry when such a pretty sound was being gifted to him. He grinned broadly, scuttling closer. He found his heart beating in time with Hog's soft laughter and felt fit to burst from it.

 

Roadhog took first watch. His brain kept Junkrat's soft smiles and tight embrace playing on a loop, and he knew sleep would not come easily for a while yet. He watched Junkrat yawn and stretch. Rat scooted closer, fumbling with the fasteners on his arm. Roadhog put his hand on Junkrat's shoulder.

“Roadie?”

He didn't answer Junkrat. He pulled him closer, undoing Junkrat's arm himself. Rat's eyes flicked between Roadhog's hands and his mask, expression painfully soft. When the arm was off, Roadhog set it aside much more carefully than Junkrat often was with it.

“Thanks,” Junkrat muttered gently, a dangerous flicker in his eyes was followed by a grin and he added, “for the hand job.”

Quiet mood vanished at once, Hog grunted and rolled his eyes. Junkrat cackled, invading Roadhog's space so he couldn't shut him out. He draped himself over Hog's belly, wheezing with laughter as he used his one hand to pull himself closer. He tried to speak but failed to control his raucous laughter enough to be understood.

“Kidding, kidding!” He gasped, “I'd have more’n a lil’ 'thank you’ for that kinda favor, don't'cha worry your pretty little head.”

“Wasn't worried,” Roadhog replied, sending Junkrat into fresh peals of delighted laughter.

“Course not! You know me real well nowadays, don't'cha? Know I'd treat’cha right! Fifty-fifty, Piggy, long as you're around.” Junkrat's voice wavered ever so slightly in the way that meant he had overshared. He kept his grin wide and hoped his newest batch of giggles didn't sound as nervous to Hog as they sounded so him. Hog was quiet, empty mask eyes fixed on Junkrat's face. After a few moments, Rat patted the top of Roadhog's stomach and slid slowly off, “welp! You're first watch, eh? I'm gonna get me some shut eye. G’night, Roadie.”

He stretched before lying down on the ground. He lay on his side a short distance away. When enough time had passed that Roadhog thought he was asleep, Junkrat scooted close, pressing his back against Roadhog's huge leg. He sighed and Hog felt tension leave his body completely.

“Night,” Rat muttered again. Roadhog’s hand found its way to rest against Junkrat’s chest. Feeling secure, Junkrat curled around it automatically, wrapping his arms around the wide wrists. Smiling to himself, he chalked up the warmth in his stomach to Roadhog’s body-heat and fell asleep peacefully.

  
  


\-----

 

The closer they grew the Sydney, the more money they had stockpiling in their bags. They had three bags: one each for Roadhog and Junkrat to spend on food, hotels, refueling the bike, etc, and another was exclusively for getting off the continent. They had enough to get them out of Australia, but Roadhog said he wanted to have a good cushion for once they were abroad. He insisted they should lie low for a little while, avoid leaving an easy trail and actually take time to sight see a bit. He wanted Junkrat to have an opportunity to learn about the world outside his own scorched and poisoned backyard. He figured they were a few thousand short of what he would prefer. He didn’t know exactly how nice the outside world was, nor did he have any idea how valuable Australian money might be at this point. He hadn’t gotten out much in the last few decades, after all. 

Still he let Junkrat spend his half on (almost) whatever he set his heart on. Fifty-fifty was only fair if Junkrat had some choice as well. For the most part he seemed content to save up like Roadhog wanted, but he had a soft spot for sweets and struggling bed and breakfasts run by little old ladies. There weren’t many of them that they passed, but Junkrat insisted on stopping at each one they saw. Junkrat tended to walk out with his money duffle significantly lighter than the requested payment required, but he never mentioned it so Roadhog didn’t either. 

 

There was a small town where they pulled in for a night. At the rate they were going it was still about a week from Sydney. Squeezed into a booth in the back of a bar, Junkrat flopped over the table. His chin was resting on his natural palm as his body curved around the wood.

“You thinkin’ we’ll pick up enough on the way if we don’t make extra stops?” He asked, drumming his metal fingers on the edge of the table. “We’ve gotta hit somethin’ big. A few thousand’s nothin’ to sneeze at, after all. ‘Course, you said it didn’t haveta be all that, but you’re tryna play it safe. Guess you’re the voice’a experience here, so I should prob’ly trust you.” He laughed, picking at a lose splinter on the corner of Roadhog’s side of the table. “Still, it’d be real easy to get as much as you want if we stop by a couple other places first.”

Roadhog inhaled to reply, but Junkrat cut him off, waving his hands around, “yeah, yeah, I know it’d add time. I’m not tryna make you stick around longer than you gotta, I just thought I’d mention it.”

At that moment, a server arrived with their food. Junkrat oozed back into his half of the booth, looking curiously at whatever it was Roadhog had ordered for him. At this point, Junkrat was almost never allowed to order what he wanted without Roadhog tacking on at least something. He kept insisting it was good for him, so Junkrat let him do it. That night, Junkrat didn’t even look at the menu, just waggled his eyebrows at Roadhog and told him to order whatever he had to eat to be allowed to get good and drunk.

“I’ve gotta be on me best behavior ‘til who the fuck knows when after we get outta this mess, right? Only fair to lemme have a good night tonight!” He had insisted, tugging on Roadhog’s arm, “It’s been ages since you let me! Not since that sheila what tried to sit on me face in the alley!”

Roadhog had flinched and huffed, the memory evidently bothering him.

 

_ Junkrat had finally pissed Roadhog enough for the man to leave Rat to his own devices for an evening. _

_ “Do what you fucking want,” Roadhog had snapped, dragging Junkrat to the door of their motel room. “When you said ‘bodyguard’ I didn’t know you meant you needed a ‘babysitter’, Rat. Fuck off and don’t come back until you know how to keep your fucking mouth shut!” With that, he’d tossed Junkrat bodily out of the room and slammed the door so hard the little glass window had fractured. _

_ Junkrat had pounded on the door and screamed for almost an hour before slumping off. Stupid fucking pig, he could fuck himself for all Junkrat cared. He’d skipped a step at that thought. After a thoughtful moment pondering it in detail, he remembered he was pissed off at Roadhog and shook the image out of his head. Damn fucking pig-cunted bastard. He’d wandered around dejectedly for another half hour before meandering into the nearest bar. _

_ It’d only taken three drinks for her to approach him. She was shorter than he was even as slouched as he was on his stool. She was nervous, tripping over her words as she’d asked if she could join him. Two drinks each and her tone had changed completely. She’d draped her arms over his shoulders, plush pink lips pressed against his ear as she slurred what she wanted to do to him, what she wanted him to do to her. He giggled, wrapping an arm around her waist. With a nip on the shell of his ear, she pulled back. Her face was flushed and strands of dark hair were falling from her plait. _

_ “Can we get out of her?” She purred, licking her lips. “Don’t have to go far, but, ah~ I want you so bad right now.” _

_ He’d been up in a second, letting her drag him out by his belt. They’d stumbled out the front door and she’d paused, looking up and down the street before huffing impatiently and shoving him back into the alley next to the bar. She leaned against the wall, pulling him close and grabbing greedily at his neck and shoulders to drag him down to kiss her. It was sloppy and wet, obviously a kiss born of alcohol and desperation, and to Junkrat it was perfect after such a long period without. He pressed his palms flat against the rough brick, pressing into her until she gasped into his mouth. _

_ “You’re pretty good,” she mumbled between kisses, one hand slipping down the front of his shorts. Her hand was small, soft, and warm as she wrapped it around his cock. “You good with your mouth for other stuff too?” _

_ He giggled against her lips, grinning until it was impossible to keep kissing her properly. “Me mouth’s me best feature, baby.” _

_ She grinned, pressing a few more quick kisses to the corner of his mouth. “I want you to eat me out, okay?” _

_ He snickered, took her bottom lip between his teeth, and relished in her soft moan. “How’d’ya want me?” _

_ She leaned into him, pushing off the wall enough she could cast a furtive look at the end of the alley. The coast was clear and she turned her attention back on him. “Lie on your back.” _

_ Drunken giggles were still bubbling out of his throat as he got down on his back on the filthy, cracked pavement. He was grateful she was drunk enough the sound didn’t bother her. He’d be pissed if she’d bailed on him now. But she didn’t. Once he’d wiggled himself into the most comfortable position he was likely to find, she nibbled her lip and stepped over him. Her skirt swished with her movements and he felt a jolt of arousal pang through him when he saw she hadn’t bothered with underwear. She pulled the skirt up a little higher, then started to kneel.  _

_ Something massive closed around his leg and dragged him painfully across the pavement before she had a chance to get into position. The girl spun around to see what happened too quickly for her state of inebriation to handle and she fell to her rump with a squeak. _

_ “Oi, what the fuck!?” Junkrat yelled, kicking at Roadhog with his free leg. “Thought you stayed in the room to fist yourself or some shit, whatcha doin’ ruining my evening?” _

_ Roadhog hadn’t answered. His hand twitched toward his hook and for one heart-stopping moment Junkrat thought he was going to kill him, or her, or both of them. Instead, Roadhog hoisted him up into the air by his leg, slung him over his shoulder, turned on his heel and left. Junkrat struggled and thrashed and punched and kicked and screamed, but it did nothing. He watched the girl’s confused and hurt expression as he was carried off. He called out to her, apologizing, telling her she was beautiful and she shouldn’t cry over something like this.  _

_ Back at the motel, Roadhog threw him onto the mattress so hard he almost bounced right back off. He whined, lying completely still as his bodyguard locked them in. He still hadn’t said anything. _

_ “Why do you keep doin’ this shit?” Junkrat asked, voice low and almost calm despite his frustration. Roadhog didn’t answer. He stood by the bed, shifting his weight from side-to-side like he sometimes did when he was thinking. His fingers twitched like he wanted something. Maybe he was thinking about strangling Junkrat. He didn’t. He didn’t do anything. He just stood and stared, silent, until Junkrat had passed out. _

 

He was brought back to the present by Roadhog’s foot nudging his leg. He blinked rapidly, trying to piece his brain back together. 

“Right! Food.” He laughed, shrill and forced, before shoveling a huge portion into his mouth. He’d finished inhaling his food before Roadhog had made much progress on his own. He ate more slowly than Junkrat usually anyway, but he hated to push his mask up in public, even just half-way. Instead, it was loosened and each bite was carefully pushed between the mask and his mouth. Finished and ready for a drink, Junkrat tapped his fingers on the table and watched Roadhog eat. He liked how Roadhog ate. He liked watching his jaw move and his throat bob, he liked the way his breathing changed subtly when the food was good; liked hearing him chew.

“Roadie, you gonna let me drink tonight?” He asked in his sweetest voice. Roadhog stayed quiet for several more bites.

“Only a little.”

Junkrat whooped, dove across the table and pressed a kiss to the snout of Roadhog’s mask, then shoved off and scurried up to the bar. As he took his drinks from the bartender, he took a second to ponder over what he’d done. Well, too late to worry about it now it was done. Shrugging it off, he returned to the table. 

“I got three in case you wanted one,” Junkrat announced, pushing one glass close to the middle of the table. “And--” he pulled a straw out of his pocket with a flourish-- “you don’t even gotta mess with your mask!”

He grinned triumphantly, putting the straw on the table next to Roadhog’s glass before taking a swig of one of his own.

 

“That’s not Roadhog I see, is it?”

They both turned to see a woman striding toward them. Roadhog sat up straighter but didn’t seem to be defensive. That made Junkrat’s stomach twist, and he watched her with narrowed eyes as she made herself comfortable on the bench next to his Hog-- er, no: his bodyguard, Hog.

“Haven’t seen you in an awful long time, baby, where’ve you been?”

_ Baby. Baby. Baby. Baby. _

The word repeated over the loud static that had suddenly filled his head. He felt another nudge on his leg and realized his eyes stung from not blinking. He did immediately, jerking himself back to the table. Hog was looking at him. So was the woman. Defensive giggles rose out of his throat before he could stop them. He didn’t know how long they had been staring at him but he did see his beer had been delivered while he was out of it. Whoops.

“I said I’m Mulga,” she said to Junkrat. Her right hand was outstretched across the table. “Heard about you, Junkrat! Didn’t know my boy’d joined up with you-- thought he was still tryin’ to chase you down.”

_ My boy. _

“Right.” He shook her hand and valiantly resisted breaking her fingers. She turned back to Roadhog, smiling as she started prattling on about the last time they had seen each other. Junkrat’s mood had tanked completely and he had no idea what to do about it. He sat and stewed, drinking his beer and trying to get the gears in his brain to turn well enough for him to figure out what the fuck had happened. Hog wasn't looking at him anymore. The mask stayed aimed exclusively at Mulga. Junkrat felt prickles of something dark and angry creeping through him as he was ignored. Frustrated, Rat forced himself into the conversation. He did everything he could think of short of violence to get Roadhog's attention back. He went up to get more drinks twice, in part to see if Roadhog would get angry at him for drinking too much. The third time, he didn’t bother going back. He sat at the bar to finish his last drink and cursed his brain for latching on to the sound of the red-haired woman laughing. Glancing over his shoulder, he cracked the glass in his metal hand. Mulga was up on her knees so she could press flush against Roadhog's arm and whisper in his ear.

He was halfway out the door before he’d realized he had gotten up. Roadhog had the room key so he wouldn’t be able to get in without talking to Hog again. He didn’t fancy going back in there. No supervision… he giggled. There were a lot of buildings around that would look better in pieces.

“Junkrat.”

Fuck.

He turned back to see Roadhog striding after him. Alone. 

“Where’s that--”  _ cunt-- _ “woman?”

“Inside.”

Junkrat cocked an eyebrow. 

“C’mon. We’re going back to the room,” Roadhog said. Junkrat smiled and followed, looking over his shoulder every so often to make sure she wasn’t trailing them. He pointed out different buildings and landmarks, telling Hog all about how much it would take to blow it sky high, asking which ones Hog thought would look best on the ground. When they reached the room, Junkrat flung himself onto the bed, laughing as he bounced. Roadhog started rooting through their belongings, double-checking to make sure everything was still there like he always did when they stayed in town. Then he stood and went to the door.

“Stay here.”

“Where are you goin’?”

“Out.”   
Junkrat sat up with a frown. “Out where?”

“Mulga wanted to talk,” Roadhog answered. Unaware of the icy lead feeling that had suddenly dropped itself into Junkrat’s stomach he continued, “shouldn’t be long. Stay here and keep out of trouble.”

Then he was gone before Junkrat could argue. For several long moments, Rat stared at the door blankly. Then all at once, emotions poured into him from all sides, swirling too rapidly for him to process any of them.

How dare Roadhog leave him to go fuck that bitch when he’d been blocking Junkrat at every turn?

Why would Roadhog be leaving him unattended?

Was he going to come back?

His breathing was too shallow. He curled in on himself, fingers gripping to his hair tightly as he gasped desperately for breath.

 

Roadhog returned to find the room completely trashed. The furniture had all been upended, bedding was strewn all across the room, both lamps lay snapped on the floor, and the mirror was in shards across the threadbare carpet. He was immediately on alert, hook out and ready in case the assailant was still in the room. He crept carefully through the wreckage until he reached the bathroom door. It was wide open and the only one in the room was Junkrat. Lying in the bone-dry bathtub.

“What happened?” Roadhog asked, gently patting the thin body to check Junkrat for injuries. He found none, but Junkrat wasn’t paying attention to him. Under ordinary circumstances, Junkrat’s attention immediately snapped to him when he entered the room. Something must have been quite wrong.

“Junkrat, look at me,” he ordered. There was a pause long enough for Roadhog to think he was being ignored, then Junkrat blinked, looked around wildly and seemed confused to discover Roadhog was with him.

“Why’re you back so soon? Thought you was gonna be out all night.”

“I said it wouldn’t take long.”

“Didn’t think you meant it.” His eyes flicked down Roadhog’s body, then back up with concern. “You not the kinda guy who can last? Or can ya just not get it up?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”   
“Your cock,” Junkrat said as if it were obvious, swatting Roadhog’s license plate for emphasis. “Somethin’s not firin’ right if you’re back already.”

Roadhog simply stared at him. He tried to figure out why Junkrat was making assumptions about his cock out of the blue. Junkrat was staring back, eyebrows up, expecting an answer. When he didn’t get one, he wriggled out of the bathtub and, unable to get passed Roadhog’s bulk to get out, backed until he was leaning against the farthest wall.

“Anyways, feelin’ better? It’s been a long time for you, I think. Probably why you’ve always been up in my business, too, right? So now you’ve gotten yours, lemme go out and get mine.”

After far too long it finally clicked what Junkrat was actually saying and what he thought had been going on.

“I didn’t sleep with her.”

Junkrat laughed, short and bitter. “No, ‘course not. Would never’a thought she wanted a fuck with the way she was hanging off you n’ tryna get you to meet up with her.”   
Roadhog stood up and crossed his arms. “She wasn’t asking me to fuck her, Rat. Even if she wanted to, I don’t sleep with everyone who asks--as you should know.”

Junkrat’s face burned bright red and the sharp inhale was telling enough that he remembered his drunken come-ons they had thus far avoided talking about. For a brief moment, Roadhog wondered if he’d managed to cross a line. Junkrat had so far been so forgiving of everything Roadhog had done or said he didn’t think of Junkrat as even having lines.

“Then what’d she want?”

Hog sighed. He didn’t want to have this conversation in a bathroom. “Help me clean up, then I’ll tell you.”

 

They sat on the bed together once the room had been more or less reconstructed. The bed was made and the furniture was upright, the glass was swept off the floor, and the lamps were jerry-rigged together so they would at least stand straight up.

“So… what’d she want?” Junkrat asked again, head tilted slightly as he peered up curiously at Roadhog. 

“She said she's interested in taking you off my hands,” Roadhog answered, figuring it was best not to beat around the bush. “She wants me to sell you to her.”

“How much is she payin’?”

Roadhog gave him a figure and Junkrat let out a low whistle. “Damn… that's, uh… quite a sum.”

Silence fell over the pair of them as Roadhog watched Junkrat try to figure out what he wanted to say.

“You interested?”

Hog considered it for a moment. “No.”

Junkrat grinned brightly for a split second before squashing his face back into something almost passing as a neutral expression. “You sure 'bout that, mate? Pay your way outta this wreck nice and easy with a wallet that thick.”

“Wouldn't be going without you,” Roadhog shrugged. Junkrat allowed himself to smile again and he edged closer. His hands came to rest on Roadhog's stomach and he leaned in until he was only a few inches from the mask.

“But you do wanna go? With me?”

“It was my idea,” Hog reminded him.

Junkrat's eyes unfocused for a moment and he looked thoughtful as he tried to remember. Roadhog let his mind spin for a few moments before bringing him back with a huge hand on his hip. Junkrat blinked and refocused, eyes flicking between the eyes on Hog's mask.

“And you don't wanna sell me out to her?”

“No.”

“You got another buyer you ain't told me about?”

“No.”

“So… you wanna stick with me?”

“That's what you pay me for.”

Junkrat laughed brightly, pressing closer. “I knew I was growing on ya!”

Hog's face heated and he snorted indignantly; that was not what he said! Junkrat smiled wide and slid his hands up to link behind Roadhog's neck. 

“Your ears are red,” he mused, “are you blushing under there?”

Another huff. Rat laughed and pressed another quick kiss to the mask's cheek. Then he drew away until the hand still covering his hip pulled him back. He looked back at him in confusion. Hog moved forward. The snout of the mask bumped gently against Junkrat's forehead in a mirror of a kiss. Something light and bright swooped through Junkrat's body and he grinned so wide it was painful. He gazed at Roadhog for a few long giddy moments before the feeling became too much inside him. Taking a deep, rattling breath that made him shudder, he pressed his forehead into Roadhog’s neck and squeezed himself closer. 

“You take first watch, Hoggie,” he murmured against warm skin, “wanna sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL. It's been a long time, but the chapter is pretty hecking long in comparison to the others, so it's probably fine. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> As always: Huge thank you to both my BETA and everyone else who has read this fic so far. Thank you for your time. Feel free to hmu either here or on tumblr @ mrthirst.tumblr!


	7. Pseudechis Australis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one everyone's been waiting for!  
> Warnings: graphic depictions of violence, gore, and torture.

It was dark, the kind of pitch blackness that pressed hard on his eyes. He opened them wide as if it would help any. It didn't. Robbed of his sight, he focused on what he could feel instead. He was tied to a hardwood chair, tightly bound rope digging painfully into his wrist, above the elbow on his prosthetic-less arm, and both ankles. He wriggled to test the strength of the rope and hissed at the burn. Whoever tied him knew what they were doing. He stilled and cast around for more information. There was a persistent drip of water somewhere behind him. He’d counted the seconds between drops: Drip.

Twenty eight seconds...

Drip.

Twenty eight seconds...

Drip.

 

There was a hard clunk like a heavy lever being pulled and light flashed into his face. He recoiled, eyes screwing shut as if it would protect him from the flood light above him.

“Alright, little rodent,” a man’s voice called from outside the range of light, “time to talk.”

He blinked rapidly, still trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden illumination. He wasn’t ready for this yet. He was usually good at talking, he could go on for days without even thinking about it under ordinary circumstances; but these were not ordinary circumstances. Whatever they’d used to knock him out was still dragging his cognizance through fog.

“Don't mind if I do,” Junkrat said, giving his head a little shake, “though I can't say I envy your people skills if you gotta tie guys up like this for a simple conversation.”

The man in the shadows laughed, “you're not much better off, buying your _friend_ , are you?”

He emphasized the word 'friend’, ending hard on the 'd’ to prove it was singular. Junkrat swallowed, shifting in his chair. He licked his lips and grinned, maybe this would be fun after all.

“Though… he handed you over pretty easily, so money clearly isn't working for you either.”

 

Ouch.

 

But no! It wasn't true. Roadhog said so. He had stuck around longer than expected, he'd come up with the idea to leave the country, he… was somewhere else now with all of their savings…

But it was just part of the plan. Of course! Roadhog promised he'd come get him soon. How long had he been here? Junkrat wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious. He fidgeted again, flexing his fingers. He trusted Roadhog would come for him…

“Awful quiet suddenly,” the man mused. “Well that's fine. I only want one answer from you.”

Junkrat cocked his head, looking into the darkness where he assumed the man's face was. His cheeks twitched and a smile started spreading across his face. He knew what was next. How dull.

“Where's the treasure?”

Junkrat puffed his cheeks and blew a raspberry at the still unseen man. “Boring! Ask me somethin’ better, yeah? We’re gonna get bored right quick if that’s the way you wanna do this.”

There was a sigh in the dark. Junkrat giggled. A hand shot into the light and backhanded him across the face. Smiling despite the stinging in his cheek, Junkrat looked ahead again.

“No warning shots? C’mon, mate, that ain’t nice.”

“May have escaped your notice, but I’m not really here to be nice.”

Junkrat blew another raspberry, “that ain’t gonna getcha what you want.”

There was a low laugh, “oh… I think it will.”

He started moving, Junkrat blindly following the shuffling footsteps as the man walked behind him. “You’ll want to know,” the man began as he walked in slow circles around Junkrat’s chair, “Roadhog said we should play nice with you first. Something about you being easy to fool when someone hints at being nice.”

Junkrat’s smile twitched. Roadhog said what?

“But being buddy-buddy with you didn’t get him answers, did it? So my orders are a lot more effective than wasting time with pleasantries.”

A fist swung out of the dark and smashed hard against his cheek bone. A fist from the other side. Against his chest. Into his stomach. Over and over. By the time they let up, Junkrat was desperately heaving for breath, all wind knocked out of him.

“So I will ask again,” the man said as Junkrat drooled over himself through gasping lips, “where is the treasure?”

It took several more body-rattling breaths before he had enough oxygen to answer.

“Try harder,” he wheezed, laughing breathlessly. There was a moment of silence in which Junkrat was positive the man was displeased. Then there were more footsteps, something large and heavy hit the floor with a damp _smack,_ and whatever it was dragged across the floor as the man moved in front of him again. Something metal twisted across another metal something and Junkrat barely had time to register the sound of running water before it smacked against him.

Freezing cold, he gasped and inhaled it, choking and spluttering even as it continued to pound against him. It was filled with rough salt and tasted strongly of old fish and iron.

When it was shut off, he slumped forward, gagging and spitting up as much water as he could.

“You look terrible,” the man sighed. “Why don't you just tell me what I want to know before things get worse?”

Junkrat laughed, an ugly, choking, humorless sound, “a couple little punches and a bath ain't exactly intimidating.”

The man’s voice hummed before he muttered, “you're right. A pity you _want_ to be intimidated.” The heavy thing (likely the hose he'd been using) fell to the ground. The man grabbed the back of Junkrat's chair and dragged it backwards. He was plunged back into darkness only broken by the blinding light he'd just left. The chair hit a bump, then he was lifted and tossed. The chair landed painfully on his whole arm and he lay sideways until his attacker wrenched the chair upright. Whatever they were sitting on now felt much less solid than the floor before. It rose and fell with a gentle sloshing. Junkrat wondered if it was a boat.

He heard the other man grabbing the hose and returning. He was backlit and Junkrat couldn't make out his face. He was clearly shorter than Junkrat by quite a bit, but since people usually were it wasn't helpful to identifying him.

Metal twisted against metal and water trickled from the hose and into the water below. Then it was dropped onto the floor at Junkrat's feet.

“It'll take a few hours to fill your little boat heavy enough to sink. When you're ready to tell me where the treasure is, yell for me. Otherwise… well, I might forget you're out here and forget to make it back before you drown.”

He stalked off, clicking off the light that had been on Junkrat earlier as he headed through a far off door.

Rat struggled against the ropes once he was alone. They didn't give. With his orange hand, this situation would be laughably easy to escape. As it was… he didn't even know where that hand was. He wondered if they'd kept it in one piece; or kept it at all. He looked around in the darkness, hoping against hope he'd be able to see something, anything. Nothing. With the steady trickle of water he could no longer hear the drips he had timed before. He wasn't sure how long it had been.

He wasn't sure how long it took the freezing water to cover his ankles. There was only darkness and frigid water slowly creeping up his calves.

He had to get free. He had to get out. He wriggled again, desperately trying to tug his stump free from the binding. It was no use. All he had managed to do was give himself rope burn.

He was shaking badly from the cold by the time the water was rocking gently against his thighs. He couldn't remember ever in his life being as cold as he was then. He couldn't feel his feet. He could only feel pinpricks of pain up most of his legs. His body was screaming at him for the cold to stop.

“It's fine, it's fine, I'm fine,” he muttered to himself, rocking back and forth as much as he could in his bindings. He could feel his mind tugging at the corners, wanting to leave. He shook his head violently. “C'mon, this ain't the time,” he pleaded to himself, “gotta keep me wits about me.”

His mind pulled a little harder. The cold was starting to fade into background.

“No, no, no, no,” he whimpered. If he let himself drift off now, he had a good chance of dying. He could feel by the gentle motion of the boat that it was sitting lower in the water than it had been. Helplessly casting around for anything to keep him grounded, he started muttering the first thing that popped into his head.

“Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron, carbon… nitrogen… Oxygen… fl… fluorine…”

 

Water sloshed into his mouth, cutting into his thoughts  He spat and coughed, raising his head as much as he could to delay submerging his face. Shit! He was freezing, trembling and numb from the waist down. It was hard to get loose since Roadhog wasn't there… Ah right. Roadhog. Where was Roadhog? Junkrat was expecting him to be here by now. Surely he'd been paid right away? The plan was to collect money and then collect Junkrat back. That was the plan! Roadhog had agreed. Roadhog had promised…

Then again…

Roadhog loved his money, didn't he? He had all his money they'd gotten together, plus Junkrat's, and with the fee he'd gotten for handing Junkrat over, Roadhog was swimming in cash now. He'd have no problem leaving Oz far behind.

No. Roadhog said he wanted to go with Junkrat. He was just a little delayed. Junkrat could be patient. He just had to hold out a little longer…

Still, he thought as he panted and gasped for air before the salt water slipped over his face, it'd be nice if he arrived sooner rather than later. It took all his willpower to hold his breath despite the freezing cold that made him want to gasp. He thrashed around in a last ditch attempt to get above the water.

Just as his lungs burned and his thoughts began to dull, a fist wrenched him up by the hair. Gagging and choking for breath, he was pulled none too gently onto land by his upper arms.

“I see why you're called 'rat’ now.” The man from earlier was back. “You look terrible.”

“Rude. I always look good.” Junkrat's voice was raspy through his heavy breathing. He was shuddering so violently from cold the chair was rattling against the floor.

“Tell me where the treasure is,” the man said as he dragged Junkrat by the back of the chair, “and we can dry you off and let you go.”

“Oh sure,” Junkrat rolled his eyes, “we'll be good pals and I definitely won't get killed.”

“Everything and anything we do, we do because of you.” Satisfied with where Junkrat was placed, the man walked off. The dragging noise again. He was bringing the hose back.

“This would stop if you would cooperate.”

“I ain't really known for my cooperative nature, mate.”

“A pity,” the man sighed. “I hope for your sake you wise up.”

Metal twisted against metal.

The water that slammed into Junkrat's freezing body was scorching hot. He screamed; his cold-numbed body felt like his skin was burning off under the intense heat. He writhed, desperate to get away, and only managed to unbalance the chair. He landed just right to splinter the wood, but even untied and scrambling across the wet stone floor he couldn’t get out of the heat. He curled into as tight a ball as he could, arms curling up to try protecting his face. The heat on his eyes was excruciating, as if the water would boil his eyes right out of his skull. He missed having two hands.

The water shut off after what felt like an eternity. He was shivering still but his skin was burned red but the heat hadn’t thawed the bone-deep chill he could still feel from the icy water. Junkrat coughed, unfurling suspiciously as he eyed his assailant. There was a soft light coming from somewhere he hadn’t seen, and though he wanted to know what it was, he kept his eyes fixed on the silhouette of the man standing before him. He licked his lips, salty from the sea water. God, he wanted a drink.

“Tell me where it is, and this will be all you have to suffer through. We’re asking such a simple thing. You don’t think you’re brave for denying us, do you? You’re not.”

“I’ve suffered through worse than two baths in one day,” Junkrat laughed. The shadow man’s head tilted.

“One day?” He laughed. “You sat in your boat for longer than that. We’ve had you for three already.”

Three days? They hadn’t done much for three days, but…

Roadhog shouldn’t be taking that long… Junkrat licked his lips again, brow furrowing. What had gone wrong? Were there more to this little gang than they’d thought? Had they hidden better than they’d planned? Or… was he not coming…?  
“Where is it?” The man’s voice cut through his worries and brought him to what he should be worried about most: the situation he was stuck in.

“Where’s what? Be specific, mate.”

The man was on him faster than Junkrat had expected. Fists slammed into every part of Junkrat they could reach. Surprised by the speed of the attack and weakened by the cold, Junkrat’s resistance was pathetic. When the fists let up, there was a grinding of a metal pipe across stone. The pipe slammed hard into Junkrat’s temple.

 

Junkrat had no way of knowing how much time passed while he was stuck in the dark, stone room. For the most part, his company was the man he’d started with, but there were three or four others that rotated along with him. They took pride in bringing him nothing but bugs to eat. They poured water on the stone floor for him to drink-- with the exception of one time. They had pinned his arms, held him fast, and shoved a tube down his throat. They’d poured so much water into him he felt like he would burst. He’d gagged on the tube and been sick on himself. After, he’d been left bound tightly upside down until his bladder was too full for him to control.

They broke his fingers-- each of them individually. They’d shattered the elbow on his half-arm. His shoulders were both dislocated. His nose was broken. He couldn’t know for certain, but he was sure at least one of his ribs was cracked. Every inch he could see of himself in the dimly lit room was bruised. He was a tapestry of deep purple, blotchy yellow, and sickening greens.

All the while they asked and asked and asked: where is the treasure?

He talked and laughed and sobbed and would not answer.

He just had to wait for Roadhog.

He just had to wait a little longer.

He just had to wait.

They came to ask again. There were five of them. They asked with brute force, they tugged and pushed and pried at him for the answer.

“I’ve had worse,” he giggled through a mouthful of blood. “I’ve had much worse than this.”

Furious, they came at him again. New to their repertoire: a long needle that glinted in the low yellow light. They shoved it into his arm and it stung as it punctured him. He watched as the end was pushed flush and all the liquid inside was forced into his bloodstream.

It burned. He could feel it travelling through him. It burned and his vision spotted as it rushed through him. His breathing shallowed and he gasped desperately to fill his lungs. His vision was swimming, bursts of color he knew couldn’t be really in front of him popped all around his head. His blood was rushing deafeningly loud in his ears.

He had just enough time to wonder _am I dead?_ before everything stopped.

  


He began fading back into consciousness slowly. He’d been tied again; on his back with his arms tied tightly underneath him. He seemed to be pinned onto a table of some kind--metal and extremely sturdy. He was aware of voices but he couldn’t make out words. There was a woman, she sounded angry. There was a man, he sounded frustrated. The man’s voice was familiar; Junkrat had been enjoying his company for… he didn’t know how long. After several deep breaths, the voices came into focus enough he could make out what they were saying.

“--taking too long!” The woman snapped. “We don’t have the luxury of being this hospitable!”

“I--”

“I’m not interested in excuses, Range, I want results! He’s resisting because you’re not pushing hard enough!”

“If we do too much, he’ll die and we won’t get anything,” the man insisted. Junkrat thought he sounded an awful lot like he was trying to avoid doing more than he had been. He wondered why the weak man had been put on torture duty instead of the woman. There was a pause. Junkrat could just make out the sound of her exhaling frustratedly through her nose.

“Cut off his foot, he doesn’t need two.”

“What?”

“It’s not fatal,” her eye-roll was practically visible with her tone of voice, “but it’s better than the games you’ve been playing.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Junkrat’s stomach dropped as the conversation came to an end. He could hear footsteps coming closer. He tried to wriggle free but to no avail. His heart was hammering in his chest.

They weren’t really going to take his foot off, were they?

_Where was Roadhog?_

The door opened and the man stepped in. Junkrat’s eyes immediately found the bone saw in his hand. The man flicked a switch and lights flashed on. Junkrat blinked rapidly, eyes protesting painfully to the sudden brightness. The room had never been so thoroughly lit and, once his eyes adjusted, he finally got a good look at the man approaching him.

He looked… familiar somehow, but Junkrat’s mind only conjured up the image of a snack machine. He didn’t find that helpful. But reminiscing had to wait. For now, he focused on the saw.

“Now, little rat, I’ll ask you one more time,” he said, running his fingers along the back of the saw. It was an intimidation tactic: draw the eyes to the saw. It worked. “Where’s your treasure?”

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Junkrat prayed that Roadhog would arrive soon. “At the end of a rainbow, just like in them kiddie stories.”

The man wasn’t amused. Junkrat wasn’t surprised. He drew closer and raised the saw.

“No.”

They looked at the doorway. A woman was striding in. Her hair flashed red in the artificial light and Junkrat recognized her immediately.

Mulga. That ginger bitch that wanted to fuck Roadhog and bought Junkrat. The bitch that was responsible for everything he’d been through.

“No?” The man asked. “You sai--”

“Not the left leg,” she elaborated as she came to a stop a few steps away. “Take the right one. Don’t balance him out. It’ll be more fun that way.”

The vicious glee on Mulga’s face contrasted neatly with the reservation still showing on the man’s. Despite his expression, he moved to the other side of the table as another man came hurrying in.

“Mulga, we have some business for you,” he muttered in a hushed voice. She pouted.

“Aw.... I wanted to watch.” With a sigh, she turned and waved the man on. “Carry on, Range. I trust you’ll have fun on your own.”

She and the newcomer left Junkrat and Range alone. Junkrat turned his eyes to Range, who was staring hard at Junkrat’s legs. His sudden hesitancy made Junkrat feel bold, more confident than he had in ages.

“You don’t look so hot,” he grinned. Range’s eyes flicked to his face. He didn’t look comforted to see Junkrat smiling again. “Not scared, are ya?”

Range glared. “Don’t be a fucking idiot.” His eyes flicked back to Junkrat’s legs. “I’m just deciding where to cut.”

He lifted the saw again, touching the blade to various points on Junkrat’s skin. He found a place that seemed to suit him and left the blade pressing ever so slightly against Junkrat’s leg.

“Once more…” he murmured, “tell me where the treasure is.”

“Just take it off, fucker, I’m not tellin’ you shit.”

There was another moment in which Junkrat thought Range might not do it. Then his expression darkened and he muttered, “fine”.

Range hadn’t chosen to cut at the ankle. He wasn’t splitting the joint. Half-way up Junkrat’s lower leg, he began to saw through the thin layer of flesh before taking on the shin. It was agony. Junkrat wailed and thrashed uselessly against his bindings, fat tears spilling down his cheeks. The horrible aching in his leg became his entire existence. He felt nothing but his nerves shrieking, pleading, for the saw to stop. It rocked slowly, cutting hardly anything new with each pass. Range was drawing it out. He could hardly breathe. The grinding of the saw through his bone was sickening. He could feel his stomach threatening to turn. When it did, he didn't even have enough presence of mind to wish he weren't on his back. He was sobbing harder than he'd ever before, wracking his entire body with huge, wet gasping breaths.

There was a nauseating jolt in the saw's motions when it cleared his bone an eternity later. The flesh cut much more easily, and a moment later, Junkrat's eyes blurrily focused on Range smirking at him.

“Hope you didn't need this,” he teased despite being visibly ill, wiggling the bloody foot in his hand. The dangling veins splattered blood everywhere and the skin flapped around gracelessly.

“Tell me where the treasure is and I won't take any more of your body away.”

Rat was too far gone to answer. His leg throbbed horribly all the way down into the missing foot he could still feel. Blessedly, the pain and shock took hold and dragged Junkrat unconscious once more.

 

Junkrat woke with a start, strung against the wall with his arms and leg pinned, a stinging in his inner elbow and heart hammering hard. The jerk he’d done when he’d regained consciousness had upset his leg which flared in agony. Gasping, he looked down. The remaining stump of his right leg dripping blood despite the tourniquet they were using to keep him from bleeding out before he told them where to go.

A familiar thudding sound and he was again blinded as the flood light above him turned on once more.

Something flashed in front of him, and his eyes immediately fixed on the spot. A knife, sharp and deadly, glinted in the light. He couldn’t see who was holding it.

"Where is it?"

Ah… It was Mulga herself at last. He licked his dry lips as he stared blankly at the darkness that hid her from him.

"I'm done asking," she said, sounding equal parts exasperated and disappointed. "I would have thought you’d be tired after our last game. My friend said you cried when he sawed off your leg."

"I was just cryin' that he was a little bitch about it."

He received a backhanded smack across his face. He tasted iron and spat the blood at the woman he still couldn't see clearly. She clicked her tongue and laughed.

"If that's how you want it... Let's play another game..."

She stepped closer, looking vicious as the overhead lighting fell on her face. The knife met the skin on his ribcage, but did not slice. Instead it simply rubbed against him.   It sheared off the slightest layer, leaving the spot raw, stinging, and sticky wet with clear fluid Junkrat didn't know what to call. She continued to shear his skin, cutting deeper only when the sting of the knife over the previous wound made him twitch. It was a weird kind of agony. Nothing like the slow, devastating pain from when they had taken his leg. That had rattled him all the way through, making him shake and cry and s _cream_. But this was... She didn't take thick layers away, she wasn't peeling his flesh from his bones, she just... Exposed him to the stinging air.

When his front and sides were all rubbed almost bloody, she stepped away into the darkness.

Water shot out from no nowhere, freezing cold and salted.

He screamed, the frigid water burning like  fire as the salt ground into the tender, shallow wounds. When it stopped, he slumped forward, panting and hard and dripping wet. He was dizzy and his whole torso burned. Hog said something once about wounds too shallow for the body to worry about healing quickly. Ah, right... Hog. They'd decided to hand Rat over for some quick cash, then double back and rescue him, hadn't they? But Rat had been here too long. He had gone through too much. Roadhog wasn't here yet, so Roadhog wasn't coming.

The thought made him start to laugh. It started as giggling, high and cracked like he was nervous; then louder, shaking his whole body. He threw his head back, slamming it into the wall. The pain was hardly noticeable over the aching in the rest his body. He laughed because he was even more of a fool than he had ever known: _trusting Roadhog_ . Roadhog was a mercenary. Junkrat had known that. Junkrat _knew_ Hog was only staying for the loot. He was incredibly stupid to let himself believe otherwise. He’d let Roadhog carry all their spoils and walked away willingly into someone else’s hands. Roadhog must be half-way round the world by now. Roadhog must be so relieved. His laughter cracked and he suddenly realized he was crying again. His heart breaking hurt worse than the salt under his skin and more than losing his leg. He laughed harder through his tears, hiccuping and choking and _loathing_ himself for letting his guard down.

“You’re disgusting,” Mulga’s voice cut through his wallowing, shrill and sharper than the knife still in her hand. “Pathetic! You’re such a waste of space, honestly why are you even still alive? What the fuck are you living for?”

What was he living for? Hm…

“Why the fuck are you still struggling? It’d be easier--it’d be better!-- if you just fucking died, you piece of shit!”

She was screaming, furious. She sounded far away. He wondered if he was passing out from pain or just suffocating on his own snot. Either seemed likely. He realized that if he died there in the dark; chained to a cold, rough wall, chest and stomach shaved of skin and stinging fiercely, bleeding out of the excruciatingly painful butchered remains of his leg, his useless body would go out with a bang. He’d explode something beautiful and from so close Mulga wouldn’t be able to escape. The thought of her dying for what she’d done to him made him grin. Remembering the way she’d crawled all over Roadhog, the idea of killing her just for that made him start laughing again.

 

There was a sound of a door bursting open, some yelling, Rat could hardly hear over his laughter. He forced himself quieter, devastated giggling still seeping out every so often. There were no voices anymore. Heavy footsteps. An enormous silhouette.

Junkrat looked up, tears blurring his vision. The man in front of him now was gigantic.

“Ain’t nobody that big but Roadhog,” he muttered to himself. But Roadhog wasn’t coming for him, was he? Junkrat laughed again, letting his head fall forward. Hallucinating Hog now seemed like an unnecessary cruelty for his brain to come up with.

Two huge fingers gently hooked under his chin and pulled his face back up. Seeing Roadhog swimming in his watery vision made him want to cry more. His heart squeezed painfully. He missed Roadhog so bad. Maybe he’d wake up in the hotel next to Roadhog and never suggest this shitty idea. They’d go abroad. Roadhog would get used to him. Roadhog would like him.

“I really wanted you to like me,” Junkrat grinned deliriously up at the hallucinated Roadhog. Another sob forced its way through him and he was suddenly crying too hard to see. He squeezed his eyes shut. He was crying too hard and too lightheaded to see anyway. Rat tried hard to focus on the feeling of fingers on his skin, but he couldn’t keep himself awake any longer. He hoped the blood loss was finally fatal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I've never written graphic torture before, so I hope those of you who were excited for the amputation were not too terribly disappointed.  
> 2\. I meant to say this earlier but better late than never: I'm sorry to everyone who speaks Australian English. I'm clearly not one of them, and if anyone would like to fix up my attempts, please help.  
> 3\. Sorry for the delay! I hope it was worth the wait and that the next one will be up faster.  
> 4\. Thank you all so much for taking time to read and comment on this story! I appreciate your support!!


	8. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roadhog goes after something he misplaced and makes a pun in a serious situation.

Everything had gone horribly. The entire thing should have taken a few hours max, but it was days into the fiasco and Roadhog was starting to unravel. His mind, unhelpfully, played a loop of the scene of his second greatest mistake as he tore across the desert on his bike.

 

_They'd gone to sleep together, letting their guard down as they clung tightly to one another. Roadhog couldn't remember ever sleeping better than that. As his eyes fluttered open, he had grinned to find Junkrat wrapped arms, pressed tightly against Hog’s body. His awakening shifts must have woken Rat, who snuggled closer and pressed small, light kisses across Hog's collarbone. Hog had known then that he never wanted to wake up any other way ever again._

_“Sleep well?” He had asked, deep voice extra gravelly with sleep. Junkrat had nodded vigorously._

_“Like a fuckin’ dream, mate,” he answered happily. “You?”_

_Roadhog nodded. They stayed quiet for awhile longer, not letting go. Junkrat's stomach growled, and he whined when Roadhog got up to get them breakfast. When Hog came back he let Junkrat sit on his lap while they ate. After they finished, Junkrat looped his arms around Hog’s neck and his legs as far around his middle as he could. Roadhog wondered if it hurt to have his thighs spread so wide, but he just nuzzled into Hog’s chest and didn’t complain._

_“Hoggie?” Junkrat asked after a quarter of an hour of snuggling. “You like traveling with me, right?”_

_A pause, then Roadhog nodded._

_“And you trust me by now, right? That I'll make good on me promise for your treasure?”_

_A longer pause, then Roadhog nodded again slowly. He was getting suspicious._

_“And… you wanna go abroad with me and teach me about all kindsa shit and find a buyer and… and you'd keep protecting me ‘til then?”_

_“What are you asking, Rat?”_

_Junkrat pulled back enough to look at the mask, gnawing nervously on his lip._

_“I just… wanted to double check that you're still in this.”_

_“I told you I'm not selling you to her,” Roadhog said, “I meant it.”_

_Junkrat smiled and Roadhog went on, “I'm... having fun. You've made it worth sticking around even though it'll be awhile before the big payoff.” There was a short pause. “Where you go, I go, Junkrat.”_

_He beamed, squeezing Roadhog in a tight hug before pulling away again, back to his regular chipper self. “Great! 'Cause I got an idea…”_

 

Roadhog should have said no. He should have said that was Junkrat’s worst plan ever. He should have told him they had plenty of money to leave. He should have said no.

But he didn’t.

He’d laughed, said it had sounded dangerous, and laughed again at Junkrat’s excited agreement. He’d said okay. They had started planning. Then Roadhog had left the room to go find Mulga.

 

_He found her right outside the building, talking to the man beside her._

_“Mulga,” he called. She turned, grinned, and told her companion to keep going. The man never turned so Roadhog could see his face, which he’d thought seemed a little unnatural, but with Mulga approaching, he simply let it go._

_“What can I do for you, baby?” She purred when she drew near-- too near._

_“You still wanna buy a rat?”_

_Her eyes flashed brightly, but her smile was controlled. “I’m always ready for a rat. You got one to give me?”_ _  
_ _“Not here; don’t wanna cause a scene,” Roadhog replied, glancing around. “You have somewhere private you want him delivered?”_

_She licked her lips and nodded. She stepped closer (unnecessary, in Hog’s opinion) and told him the location in a low voice. She enunciated carefully, moving her lips deliberately in a way Roadhog supposed was a seductive move. She had nice enough lips, but… Not really what he was into at the moment._

_When she walked off, he turned and headed back inside, missing the exaggerated swing in her hips completely._

_“How’d it go?” Junkrat asked nervously from the bed as Roadhog closed their door._

_“They’ve got a hideout at one of the abandoned opal mines,” Roadhog answered, coming over to sit by Junkrat on the bed. “We’re going to drive out there and drop you off.”_

_Junkrat nodded, plucking at loose threads in the duvet beneath him. “Which one?”_ _  
_ _“Lightning Ridge.”_

_Rat frowned and cocked his head, “that’s a ways north, inn’it?”_

_Roadhog nodded. “Could be worse.”_

_Junkrat laughed, leaning heavily against Roadhog’s arm. “Well! I’d best get meself all pretty for them, huh?”_

 

Roadhog’s right hand squeezed tightly over the throttle of his bike and he twisted his wrist, urging the bike faster. He’d wasted so much time. There was a chance that the information he’d gotten from the people he’d killed back in the mine was false, but he didn’t have anything else to go on. His bike roared furiously as he pushed it even harder.

“Come on, honey, just a little more,” he mumbled under the mask to his precious bike. She could take it. She _had_ to take it.

 

The warehouse on the docks looked like it had been abandoned and falling apart even before the Omnic Crisis. It was ancient. Based on the architecture, Roadhog guessed it was around one hundred years.

The front door was left unguarded on the outside; probably an attempt at secrecy, but Roadhog simply thought of it as negligence. Not that it mattered. They couldn't have put enough bodies to stop him from getting inside. The door crumpled under the force of his foot. His sudden entrance startled the guards inside and he had an attack of opportunity. One man shot down before he'd gotten to turn around, another hooked before his gun was out and shot at point blank range. A man fumbling with his weapon got his head nearly removed as Hog got his neck with the hook. The first hit was landed by a woman shooting him from one of three three halls off the large main lobby. She had good distance but not quite enough. She looked away to reload and looked up in time to scream before the hook caught her in the face. Roadhog charged deeper in without bothering to try going undetected. Fury pounded through his body like blood. He was here to get his Rat back and none of these grunts were going to stop him.

The first hall led to a break room. He blasted his way through five more people, left them bleeding in their unfinished food or bent over upturned chairs and tables, but didn't find Junkrat.

The second hall ended with stone steps going down to a rocky dock underneath the rest of the warehouse. There was a single dinghy moored there with several inches of water in the bottom. He didn't keep count of the bodies he broke along that path, but he laughed as he flung three into the dark water to drown.

The third hall was lined with offices, all of which were empty of both enemies and Rat. There had to be something he'd missed. He couldn't be in the wrong place again, he just couldn't! Neither of them could afford him to be any later than he already was. Furious, he went back the way he had come, paying more attention to smaller details than his original rampage had allowed.

The way back through the hall was fruitless. He found some stores of supplies he hadn't seen before, mostly food and bottled water. He ignored them and carried on.

The large open room that made up most of the warehouse was cluttered with boxes and ancient construction equipment left to rust. The new inhabitants had cleared some pathways, but left most of the space in disarray. He decided he'd check this room last. It would take longest, being so huge, and it was least likely they'd be keeping such a valuable prisoner right by the front door.

He went back to the stone stairs. It had been the most heavily guarded hall. As he went, he paid close attention to the way the light fell across the uneven walls. It was so dark by the time he got back down to the docks that he had a hand pressed against the wall to feel for any doors or handles he might miss in the dim. A good idea, as his hand was dragged onto wood rather than stone. He felt around a bit more, carefully and quietly, before pressing his ear to the wood. There was a woman’s voice and then--

Junkrat. Junkrat laughing. He sounded tired. He sounded… hurt.

Roadhog had wasted enough time. His fist connected with the wood so hard the door was pulverized into splinters. Mulga spun around and gasped.

“Roadhog!” She looked petrified. “What are you doing here!?”

“You have something of mine, and I want him back,” he growled, launching himself at her. She reached for a weapon but failed to grab it before the butt of his gun cracked against her skull. She crumpled like a paper doll into a heap on the unforgivingly hard floor. He snorted; served her right. He had a few more questions for her or he'd finish her off now. But first: Junkrat. He turned to the only other figure in the room.

 

After months of close quarters, Roadhog could tell what mood Rat was in based on his laugh, but he'd never heard him laugh like he was then. He fell quiet, almost quiet anyway, and Roadhog started toward him. Junkrat looked up at him but his eyes were watery and unfocused.

“Ain't nobody that big but Roadhog.” He drew a shuddery breath and his head fell forward. Roadhog hooked his fingers under Junkrat's chin, tilting his face so he could look at him more carefully. Junkrat's eyes focused enough that Roadhog was sure he'd been seen this time. But Junkrat didn't react like Hog had expected; exasperated and huffy about the long wait.

“I really wanted you to like me,” he whispered. He grinned and for a moment Roadhog could pretend things were fine. But a sob tore through Junkrat’s whole body and he screwed his eyes closed rather than continue looking at Hog. Roadhog was rooted to the spot, completely frozen in the face of Junkrat sobbing. The tears trickled and Junkrat slumped against his bindings as he lost consciousness.

 _Enough wasting time_ , Roadhog chastised himself, kneeling down to untie Junkrat’s legs first. When he looked, there was a moment when he was confused about why only one ankle would be restrained before what he was actually seeing sank in. The right ankle wasn’t tied because it was gone. His eyes trailed over the empty space between the floor and what was left of his leg.

He’d been late and Junkrat had suffered for it.

Rage like he hadn’t felt in decades flooded his entire body. They had fucking mutilated Junkrat. If he hadn’t killed everyone in his path already, he would have made every single one of them suffer one hundred fold of Junkrat’s pain. He tore the rope binding Junkrat’s remaining leg away before standing again. Very carefully, he unbound Junkrat’s arms and hoisted him gently into his arms. He could give him hogdrogen and heal the worst of it, but Roadhog was worried trying to heal it completely on gas alone would make actually fixing the hack job more difficult. Maybe if he was careful he could at least stop the bleeding… As gently as if Junkrat were glass, Roadhog set him on a metal table nearby. He unfastened his mask and rested it gently on Junkrat’s face, attaching a container with a little click.

“C’mon… come on,” he urged under his breath. Junkrat gasped and Roadhog pulled the mask up so it was hovering over Junkrat’s face. Junkrat gasped, breathing deeply in search of the medicated air. Roadhog kept the mask a little distance away so Junkrat wouldn’t be able to get enough to heal completely, but his eyes traveled to Junkrat’s leg. Skin was slowly stretching across the wound. A few layers sealed it off, bone still visible but not bleeding anymore, Roadhog pulled the mask farther away. Junkrat wouldn’t bleed out. He looked back at Junkrat’s face and saw orange eyes fixed on his face.

“Sorry ‘m late,” Roadhog murmured, setting his mask on the table and brushing a thumb over Rat’s cheek, “let’s get you home, Boss.”

“Roadie…” Junkrat rasped. Roadhog slid his mask back on quickly and scooped Junkrat into his arms. They didn’t have time to waste.

The people he had killed had not suffered enough for what they had done, for what they had been a part of but... He turned slowly. Mulga was lying where he’d left her after knocking her out with the butt of his gun.  She wasn’t dead yet, and Roadhog was glad for it. She would be able to taste the punishment for her transgressions. He grabbed her by the hair and dragged her along on his way out to the bike.

When Junkrat was secure in the sidecar, Roadhog pulled a rope out of their supplies and looped it around Mulga’s right arm and leg. He wished she was awake, wanted her to know exactly what was about to happen; but he supposed she would wake up on the drive…

There was a gunshot and Roadhog felt the bullet hit his shoulder blade. A single shot? He could hardly feel it. He turned around to face his attacker.

The man’s arms were shaking as he clutched his gun in both hands. Roadhog recognized him at once as the little skeez that had tried picking Junkrat up at a hotel along the way. They’d been followed longer than he’d thought. He couldn’t remember his name, but Hog never forgot the face of someone who tried fucking with his things. The man shot him again. Roadhog didn’t even flinch. The man squeaked, emptying the clip into Roadhog’s unmoving body. He glanced away to reload and Roadhog’s hook shot out of nowhere. It caught him in the side and he gasped as it’s teeth sank into his flesh. Hog jerked the chain and the man flew closer.

“N-no, no, no, no! Please!” The man begged, hands scrabbling uselessly over the blood slick metal sticking out of his body. “I didn’t want to! Please, sh-she made me, I--”

“Shut up,” Roadhog growled. “You’re not gettin’ off the hook easy for being a coward.”

He double-checked Mulga’s ties before getting on the bike. The worm on his hook kept struggling but there was no way for him to pry it off.

“You can ride next to your boss and fucking think about what you did.” Roadhog told him over one shoulder. The motorcycle roared to life and Roadhog sent them flying. The man screamed as he was dragged. The spikes on the hook were cutting him apart, the road dragging him against the pull of the bike. Roadhog wondered if his ribs would snap one at a time or if the hook would simply tear his body in half. A second voice started screaming, letting Hog know Mulga had finally woken up. Good. Part of him hoped she’d be alive when they arrived at their destination so he’d be able to kill her with his bare hands. Part of him hoped he wouldn’t have to bother. He had more important things to worry about; like the unconscious man in his sidecar. Twisting the throttle, he took a breath to settle his nerves. All he had to do was get them to a doctor.

 

The trip passed in a daze and Roadhog found he couldn’t remember most of it. Fine. It didn’t matter. He grabbed Junkrat and burst through the door, sending it sailing off its hinges. The receptionist screeched in surprise, other patrons horribly frightened.

“Get me a doctor now!” Roadhog demanded the woman behind the desk. She scrambled away into the back-- heaven help her if she was doing anything other than getting him help. Moments later she reappeared with another woman behind her.

“Fix him,” Roadhog ordered. She was clearly frightened, but she moved closer without hesitation. She ran her hands lightly over his wounds, fingers skirting the edge of the half-healed stump of his leg. She barked orders to a nurse that Roadhog hadn’t seen appear.

“Bring him this way,” she said, hurrying through a set of doors. Hog carried Junkrat after her and, when they arrived in the room farthest away from the waiting area, he set Rat on the bed she indicated.

“Whoever did this didn’t do a very clean job,” she told Roadhog as she darted around the room grabbing supplies. “We’ll have to take more of the leg in order for it to heal right. He’s been through the mill, this one. We might have to open him up--”

“If anything goes wrong, I’ll kill you,” Roadhog snapped, fists balling as his heart lept. Surgery had had risks even before the crisis and after… finding someone trustworthy enough to perform it, let alone perform it well…

“Sir,” her voice wavered and her hands were shaking, but she looked squarely at his mask, “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to wait in the front room-- we need a sterile environment.”

Roadhog looked at Junkrat’s body and was torn. If he died…

If he died, then there wasn’t anywhere this doctor could hide that Roadhog wouldn’t find her. He left. His first thought was to fix the door and wait in the waiting room, but through the empty doorway he spotted his motorcycle and remembered he had some guests to attend to.

The man was ripped so far open his lower half had almost come off. Two of his ribs were missing, and three others were broken. Roadhog wasn’t an expert on anatomy but he'd cut up enough people to know some of his organs were gone as well. His clothes had shredded and he was missing skin from everywhere that had touched the ground. Little rocks and sand were sticking to the wet muscle that had been exposed to the air. Disgusting. Roadhog pulled his remains from his hook and put his hook away to clean later. He left the man’s remains in a heap on the street.

Mulga’s right shoulder and hip had been pulled out of socket. It looked painful. Good. She, like her cohort, was missing most of her clothed and plenty of skin. There was a dent in her skull as if she'd slammed into a large rock and Roadhog hoped it hadn't killed her quickly. He untied her from the bike and hoisted their corpses on his shoulders. They needed to be dealt with.

The sun was setting as he made his way back into town. He'd dumped the bodies for animals a mile or so from the city limits. It would have been a shame to waste good meat.

His motorcycle had been left undisturbed, which was a relief. He strode back into the doctor's office. The secretary looked at him fearfully but had no updates on Junkrat's condition. So he hoisted the door up and started rigging it back onto the frame.

Door attached, Roadhog turned and faced the room. His fingers curled into fists and relaxed. Now all he had to do was wait… He didn’t want to wait. He went over and sat himself in the corner. He drummed his fingers on his legs and, sighing, supposed he couldn’t hold back anymore. Resting his head in his hands, he let the guilt wash over him.

 

There were so many things he hadn’t said yet. He hadn’t told Junkrat what he’d done. He hadn’t told Junkrat even half as much as he’d wanted about how beautiful Oz had been before it blew. He hadn’t told Junkrat anything about himself-- not even basic stuff like his name or his age or his favorite fucking color. He’d pushed him around like everyone else had; beaten him down because _god_ he never controlled his annoying mouth. But even that wasn’t his fault, was it? He was a starving, half-mad, twitchy shit because of Roadhog’s arrogance in his youth. Roadhog had been twice as cocksure when he’d been Mako than Junkrat was, and he’d made infinitely more people suffer. Then things with Rat had started to change. At some point, Junkrat’s irritating nature had stopped irritating him. The times of silence were disconcerting, uncomfortable, and he missed Junkrat’s white noise. And he always… _looked_ at Roadhog. Looked at him like no one had in a long time. Roadhog felt pinned down, dissected, completely on display whenever Junkrat’s eyes fell on him. He could see them blazing hot with want and admiration. It made Roadhog’s throat dry and a little part of him preened under Junkrat’s attraction.

And _he_ wanted Rat so bad he could hardly believe it. He wanted to protect him. He wanted to show him that not everywhere was like the shithole he’d grown up in. He wanted to keep him close. He wanted to touch him.

But Junkrat was practically a child. He was legal and allowed to make his own decisions, but it didn’t sit right with Roadhog to take advantage of his limited world view. He had all the potential to be a good person-- and he fucking would have been if he’d gotten to grow up like a normal guy. He could’ve gone after someone else-- anyone else. It hardly seemed fair to selfishly swipe him from his potential.

Not that any of that mattered now. Not now he’d fucked up so royally. He’d compared Junkrat to a child, but who was supposed to be looking out for him? Who handed him over to a woman he knew was dangerous and let him get torn apart?  Fuck. Junkrat was the best thing that had happened to him in at least twenty years, and this was how he showed his gratitude. Fucking terrible.

It felt like it took days for the hours to pass him by, leaving him to brood on his mistakes and stew in self-deprecation. He shouldn't have cared about anything but the risk of losing such a generous income. But there he was; sitting in a too small chair, praying to every god whose name he'd ever learned that Junkrat would be okay.

 

“Excuse me, sir.”

 

He looked up at the voice. The doctor was standing in front of him looking rather timid.

“We’ve treated his injuries, and he’s alright. He’s resting now, but if you want to see him--”

Roadhog was on his feet at once. He grunted and she lead him back to where Junkrat was lying.

He sighed when he saw Rat sleeping. He'd never felt so relieved in all his life.

“He'll be out for a little while longer. He kept waking up during the procedures so we gave him a little more medication than would ordinarily be wise.” She sounded nervous about admitting it, but Roadhog just laughed.

“Sounds like him, causing everyone trouble.”

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes before she saw herself out. Hog watched her go, grateful for her help, then turned his attention back to Junkrat.

Another two hours passed before Junkrat started to stir. He looked confused and on the verge of panicking before his eyes fell on Roadhog.

“Ya look like shit, Hoggie,” Junkrat grumbled. Roadhog snorted. How could he tell?

“Got any water? Me throat’s killin’ me.”

Roadhog nodded, grabbing his canteen quickly. He helped Junkrat drink, then put it on the mattress next to him. Junkrat blinked a few times then fell asleep once more.

He continued waking for a few minutes every hour or two, making little comments that didn't really make sense together.

_“Where are we, Hoggie?”_

_“Y’ever wonder why radiation made them bugs so big?”_

_“Hog, why's your bike got wheels? Why don't it hover?”_

_“Hey, handsome, you come here often?”_

_“I can't feel my leg, what kinda stuff they got me on?”_

_“I like that you don't wear a shirt.”_

_“I’m gonna be sick…”_

_“Roadie, how flammable you think this place is?”_

 

Late in the evening the day after Junkrat had started waking up occasionally, he woke more completely. He pushed himself into a sitting position and Roadhog hurried to arrange the pillows so he would be propped up.

“Thanks, mate,” Junkrat yawned, grabbing for his cup of water. He drained it and replaced it on the bedside table, wiping his mouth on his arm.

“So… what…” his eyes drifted down to his legs, covered in sheets. He frowned as his eyes traced the uneven fall of the white fabric. Before Roadhog could even think of stopping him, he'd flung the sheets away.

The doctors had tidied the stump just under Junkrat's knee. It was raw looking still, and slightly grotesque with the stitches. Junkrat's fingers touched his thigh, sliding down his leg slowly. Roadhog reached out and took his hand when they reached his knee. Junkrat's face turned towards him questioningly but his eyes stayed on his leg.

“ 'm sorry.”

Junkrat looked at him completely, head cocked to one side. “What?”

“I took too long,” Roadhog mumbled, looking at their hands instead of meeting Junkrat's eyes. “I should've been there faster.”

Junkrat laughed, but it was hollow and humorless.

“Well… yeah, might've been nice,” he snickered, looking back at his leg. “But, uh… unexpected silver lining and all-- here, hold on.”

He pried his hand free of Roadhog's and snatched a pen from the bedside table. Taking Hog’s arm, he started drawing something on the skin of his inner forearm. When he was finished, he flopped back, covered himself up and shuffled down until he was under the sheets. Roadhog looked at his arm. He looked at the blanket lump with Junkrat's hair poking out the top.

“What's this?”

“It's a map, dipstick.”

“I know that. What is it for?”

Junkrat was quiet for a long moment. He pulled the blankets down just enough for his eyes to peer out at Hog. He huffed, frustrated with Roadhog's lack of understanding. He sat up, glaring sternly at him. The effect was somewhat dampened by the frequency of nervous glances to the side.

“Look,” he ran his hand through his hair, “when I hired you, it was fifty-fifty for protectin’ me. Well, I handled me own well n good without you, so it was fair.” He looked down at the end of his leg and arm. His fingers twitched. He was quiet for a long, long time. When he looked back up, Roadhog almost flinched at how dull his eyes has become.

“Y’didn’t wanna stick around before, so I know you definitely ain't babysitting me now I can't even walk right.” He took a deep breath. “Since this whole thing was my idea and shit hit the fan… not gonna punish you for it. You're free to go. You gotta map to it now,” he nodded at Roadhog's arm, “so you can go get your payout now.”

Roadhog stared at him. He couldn't quite register what he was hearing. He'd fucked their plan up royally and Junkrat was trying to pay him for it?

Junkrat didn't seem to like the complete lack of response. “You heard me, didn't you? I mean, I said all that out loud, right?”

“I'm not going to do that.”

“What?”

“I'm not leaving.”

“The fuck you aren't!” Junkrat snapped, the angry light in his eyes set Roadhog at ease compared to the resignation from before. “You ain't getting nothing out of lying to me now!”

“Not lying.”

“I'm handing you your way out! Just go like you been tryna do! It's fine!”

“No.”

Junkrat was fuming, drug addled mind having a more difficult time keeping up.

“What are you talking about, Roadhog?”

“I told you before that I'm not going anywhere.” Junkrat stared at him and he kept going. “You want me gone 'cause you can't stand me: fine. But I'm not leaving just because you think I want to.”

Junkrat blinked rapidly. He looked so genuinely surprised Roadhog wondered if he'd ever believed anything Hog had ever said that wasn't mean. Probably not.

“You still want to leave this rock?” Hog asked. “There's a big world out there waitin’ on us.”

Rat’s eyes flooded and he laughed. He grabbed Hog by the hair and pulled him close enough to press a delighted kiss to the front of his mask.

“Gotta build me a leg first,” he mused, letting Roadhog go and pulling off the sheets again. “Did you grab my arm?”

“Didn't find it…” Roadhog admitted guiltily. Junkrat was quiet for a moment, then asked, “so… what happened with you?”

Roadhog shifted, thinking back on everything that had happened since the moment Junkrat left his sight.

“Well… after they took you off back at the mines, Mulga stayed with me.” He didn't miss the way Junkrat's mouth twitched at the mention of her name. “She gave me the money and I said I still wanted a piece of whatever you were gonna give 'em. She didn't really like that but I talked her into it-- only wanted a small percentage, something for my time watching you and a delivery fee. She didn't seem upset after I said I wasn't after half. She invited me to stay so I'd be easy to find when they'd finished with you.”

He paused. He didn't really like talking so much but he pressed on.

“I was there for three days. I kept trying to wander around and find where they were keeping you. Mulga wanted me with her at all times. She kept trying to…” he snorted at Junkrat's narrowed eyes. “Yeah, she was trying to get me to sleep with her. The fourth morning I was getting nervous since I hadn't found you yet. Asked her what was taking so long, said if I'd wanted to wait around for answers I'd have kept you myself and taken half. She said she'd go down to check on you 'n find out why her assistant was taking so long. She said she'd come find me before sundown with an answer. But she didn't. I gave her an hour delay time before going to ask around. I told her little friends I wanted to see you myself, that I was looking for her. One of them, an Omnic fuck they'd hired, hadn't been programmed to lie for the cause. It said they never kept prisoners in the mine. They had a place on the coast that attracted less attention. It said Mulga staying away so long was unheard of.”

Junkrat snorted, “guess she was really hopin’ you'd _pork_ her, eh?”

Roadhog was a little less amused. “Whatever she wanted, she kept me distracted for longer than they ever should've had you away from me…”

Junkrat cocked his head to the side and his eyebrows furrowed in the way that meant he was trying to understand what exactly Roadhog meant. Roadhog didn't give him time, continuing with his story.

“Obviously, I don't trust Omnic intel, so I asked around until I got the answers out of the people. Took care of all them after I had the location and drove out to get you. It took awhile to actually find you. They had a decent setup for it. Shitty guards though.”

Junkrat laughed, “none of 'em up to your standards?”

“They died fast enough which was what I wanted from 'em,” Roadhog shrugged. “Wouldn't hire them.”

“Can't now even if you wanted to.”

“Can't now,” Roadhog nodded.

They fell into silence. Junkrat’s eyes were fixed on a point over Roadhog’s shoulder. The quiet from Junkrat was unnerving, even more than it usually was. Roadhog didn’t want to push him, knew he was going through something Roadhog couldn’t understand, but…

“What did they do to you? Besides… your leg.”

Junkrat’s eyes dropped to his leg. “That’s the worst of it. Rest didn’t really do much.”

“Tell me.”

His eyes met the mask’s. “What good’ll it do?”

Roadhog frowned. He almost didn’t want to answer, but his walls had been sheared away so much today one more slice couldn’t hurt. “... I need to know what happens when I let you out of my sight.”

Junkrat laughed, but choked it off when he realized Roadhog wasn’t joking around. “What, you worried or something?”  
“Yes.”

There was another moment in which Junkrat simply looked at Roadhog. Then he shrugged, took another drink, and started talking.

The more he spoke, the angrier Roadhog became. His fists clenched until his knuckles were white and his nails were digging into his palms. His stomach twisted and writhed over itself and he wished and wished and wished he could kill all of them over again. He’d draw it out, he’d do it right, he’d make them suffer properly. They’d gotten off so fuckin’ easy…

He’d been pressed for time. If he’d hesitated long enough to punish them right, he would’ve been too late to help Junkrat. So… he’d just have to collect their debt when he joined them in Hell.

 

Junkrat finished talking and looked at him, expecting a response. Seeing Roadhog’s posture, Junkrat laughed.

“Lookin’ tense there, mate,” Junkrat teased. “Don’t getchur panties in a bunch now, c’mon.”

Roadhog growled, which only made Junkrat laugh more. It reminded Roadhog that he didn’t understood Junkrat at all, that he probably never would: how could he be laughing about what he’d been through? How could he be laughing so soon after what he’d lost? He was an enigma. It made the feeling in Roadhog’s chest, decidedly unnamed, grow a little stronger until he ached as he looked at Junkrat’s crooked grin. He didn’t know what to say in the face of a force as strong as Junkrat. Not for the first time, he wondered which of them was really stronger.

After another moment of silence, Roadhog changed the subject. Coward, he thought to himself as he said, “how do you want to build your leg?”

Junkrat shrugged, prodding gently just above the stitches. “Dunno. Figured we’d scrap for it. There anywhere we can do that on the way outta here, or d’you think we’d be better off stealin’ some shit?”

Roadhog thought about the route between where they’d ended up and Sydney. There weren’t really junker settlements in this end of the country, so scraping wouldn’t provide materials as sturdy as what they had closer to ‘home’. Most of the junk that had been lying around near here had been dealt with ages ago. “Stealin’ or buyin’ would work better at this point. If we find an Omnic--” Junkrat huffed-- “we could tear its leg off and that’d be ideal.”

“Fuck that. I ain’t usin’ Omnic parts. I’d rather hop.” Junkrat when to cross his arms, the motion reminding him his robotic arm was still missing. He glared at the stump until Roadhog started again.

“If you’re gonna be a prissy about it, I’ll make you a fuckin’ baby carrier and carry you myself.”

Junkrat howled with laughter and Roadhog’s lips twitched up under the mask.

“Better watch out makin’ jokes like that, mate, or I’ll holda ya to it.”

“Fuck that,” Roadhog snorted, thinking privately he wouldn’t fight it too much if Junkrat took the idea seriously. “But it’d be a good idea to get you something at least before we get on the ship.”

“Ooh! Get me a pegleg like them pirates we saw pictures of in that book-- y’remember? Hooks fer hands-- though I’ve gotta have somethin’ better to make bombs with, huh?-- and pegs for legs!”

“You… want a pegleg…? Rather than stealing something decent from an Omnic…?”

“Hell yeah! Fuck Omnic tech, Roadie!”

“Alright, alright. Peg it is.”

 

They stayed in the doctor’s office for a couple more days to give Junkrat time to heal a bit more and to plan their trip more thoroughly. The office happened to have a world map that Roadhog used to show Junkrat the trip he had been mentally planning. Junkrat was awed by how small Australia looked in comparison with the rest of the world. Even understanding the proportions were skewed to accommodate the curvature of the earth, he marveled at how much he’d been missing.

“That’s like… I never knew how big it all was,” he’d said in awe, dragging his fingers across Eurasia. “Oz stretches on forever when you get stuck out in the desert, like ya ain’t never gonna get to the end of it, but it’s so small on here…”

“You’re going to see it all,” Roadhog promised, aching again at the thought of Junkrat’s upbringing, “I’m going to take you.”

Junkrat giggled, looking at him brightly, “yup! ‘Where you go, I go’, right?”

“Right.”

When they left, Roadhog left more than half of his portion of their money for the doctor in thanks for saving Junkrat’s life. He didn’t know how much she would ordinarily charge for the work she’d done for them, but he was certain by her expression that he’d overpaid. Not that it mattered to him since Junkrat had pulled through. They would still have more than enough to get out of the country and lie low for a little while if they wanted.

Without an arm or a leg, Junkrat had to be carried from the bed to the sidecar. They were going scraping in what Junkrat called the ‘sophisticated way’, which simply meant robbing stores rather than going through scrap yards and abandoned ghost towns. Their first stop was a giant hardware store, bigger by far than any single establishment Junkrat was used to. They went in together, Junkrat thrilled to ride in the basket of their trolley, and Junkrat pointed out all the items he wanted to construct his new arm and leg. He loaded the cart around him, chattering nonstop about how each piece would fit together and what it would do. It was fascinating to listen to his plans. Without any institutionalized education his wording was unique and several of the processes he mentioned Roadhog would probably have to see to understand. Once they had everything, Roadhog simply booked it out of the store, Junkrat’s shrill laughter mingling with the blaring alarms and shouts for them to stop. It made Roadhog soar; he’d been unsure if he would ever get to experience this rush again, and they were back at it faster than he ever dared hope. He laughed hard, not missing Junkrat’s besotted look as he did so. Escaping was surprisingly easy considering they were a team of a one legged man in a trolley with a wheel that wanted to veer right being pushed on foot by a 227kg asthmatic. But junkers rarely if ever came this close to the coast and Roadhog knew they were more of a campfire story to scare kids into behaving rather than thought of as a real threat. The people here were probably too soft to chase anyone like Roadhog with any confidence. They were able to slow only a few blocks away and stroll leisurely the rest of the way to the bike.

“How we gonna fit all this in me car?” Junkrat asked as they approached.

“You have to ride with me.”

Junkrat cackled. The laugh choked off suddenly when he caught sight of Roadhog.

“Y’ain’t serious…?”

Roadhog nodded.

Gesturing at the items and boxes around him Junkrat said, “you know why we got this shit, right? I don't have a right side. I'd fall off before you even get it in first gear, mate.”

“I'm not gonna let you fall.”

“You got a plan?”

“Obviously.”

They loaded the sidecar-- or rather, Roadhog loaded the sidecar with their 'purchases’ while Junkrat hassled him with “it'd fit better that way” and “that'll blow out if you put it on top like that” and “I thought you was 'sposed to be tidier than me.” When everything was packed in, Roadhog hoisted Junkrat out of the basket and balanced him on the seat. Then he took hold of the little metal buggy and twisted it apart until he could load it into his gun. Satisfied, he turned to the motorcycle.

“Hold on,” he said as he climbed on. The bike always shifted and sank under his weight and he kept his eyes on Junkrat to make sure he wouldn't tip off. Now they were facing each other, Junkrat curved backwards over the gas tank with his whole arm flung over the handlebars for security. His full leg was curved back in what Roadhog had to guess was an uncomfortable way to make sure Hog’s leg hadn't pinned it against the bike. The look was… not unbecoming for Rat, if Roadhog was honest.

As usual, Junkrat seemed to pick up on his feelings even without seeing his face. He shifted carefully, grinning wickedly, so he could fling his leg over Roadhog's thigh.

“This how you want me to ride?” He asked, voice breathless with what Roadhog thought was hope. It'd be so easy to run his massive hands all over Junkrat's exposed torso and just--

“No.” He lifted Junkrat again, snorting at the indignant whine he got as he manhandled him until he was sitting sidesaddle. His right side was pressed against Roadhog's stomach and his legs were propped over Roadhog's thigh. Roadhog patted his flak jacket. “Hold on.”

Junkrat obeyed, reaching across his body to anchor himself securely against Roadhog. He was muttering under his breath but the words were lost as the bike roared to life.

 

Roadhog kept them on the outskirts of the city as they finally came upon Sydney the day after their little shopping excursion. He didn't want any trouble when they were so close to getting out--even if Junkrat had been in better condition Roadhog would've made him behavior.

The docks came into view and the size of the ships caused Junkrat to whistle.

“Them’s way bigger than I expected,” he admitted in awe. “Never seen nothing bigger than them little dinghies what go out on lakes.”

Roadhog said nothing, but the ships were impressive to him as well. He wondered if they'd been built abroad or if this little section of the country was recovering faster than he'd thought. Maybe they would spread the recovery across the whole continent. It'd take decades, maybe centuries, to get the country back to even close to how it'd been but maybe, maybe they could do it if they all worked together, bound by the fact that everyone lived here in a country worth saving.

But he doubted it. The rich would hoard their money and power, the poor would sell their bodies, their labor, their souls for scraps. The Junkers would hunt each other down, would drink and fight and fuck until they were put down themselves. Human nature didn't allow for optimism when money was involved, and money was the only thing with enough power to get things done now. Fuck it. He didn't have to ever come back. He'd sail away and die abroad and never miss the last 30 years of his life.

“Which one’re we takin’?” Junkrat's voice cut through Roadhog's thoughts and brought him back to where they were.

“Dunno yet. Gotta find a travel schedule and have a little chat with whoever's running the one we want.” They'd talked about this before, but Junkrat's already spotty memory had gone to shit with the pain medication he'd gotten for his leg. He'd made Roadhog tell him about his rescue three times since the first time.

“There,” Junkrat pointed, “looks like there's a help center or something. They probably know where each’a these is goin’, yeah?”

Roadhog parked nearby and let Junkrat clamber onto his back. His elbows were clinging tightly around his neck, but Roadhog didn't have a better way to transport him at the moment. Maybe there was a spare wheelchair somewhere they could snatch up. He'd probably have to push Junkrat around but there were worse things.

The help center was a good start for what they wanted. They strolled up to the automated desk and started rifling through pamphlets. Every ship in and out of the port for months was scheduled for easy tourist accessibility. The idea that anyone in Oz was frivolous enough to go on tourist cruises during a time of such distress, when people of all genders and children were dying only days away, made Roadhog want to rip the city apart with his bare hands.

“Roadie,” Rat purred in his ear, “you're fucking up the counter.”

Roadhog looked down to the counter he'd thought he'd rested his hand on casually. Instead, there were cracks in the surface like a huge spiderweb that spun out from the shattered dent he'd made with the pressure brought up from his fury. Whoops.

“You can take that out on me later, if ya want, but we gotta get on one of these ships. Lookie, this one's for Japan. You wanted to start there, didn'tcha? Or am I forgetting something…?”

It took Roadhog a moment to move past Junkrat's offer and focus on the other portion of the conversation.

“Japan's good,” he muttered, taking the packet in Junkrat's hand so he could look it over.

“Ain't that convenient,” Rat laughed. “We gonna go find some workers and have a nice, civilized conversation?”

“Surprised you know that word,” Hog teased, sticking the papers in a pocket.

“I’m as civilized as they come, Hoggie, you know that,” Junkrat chuckled, patting the center of Hog’s chest. “But we can sing me many virtues later, eh? I’m ready to get off this rock.”

Roadhog grunted in agreement and carried Junkrat off to find someone with whom they could discuss travel arrangements for them and their bike.

The pamphlet they had been looking through had been for one of the uppity cruise ships. Roadhog didn’t think that was likely to be the best way for them to go about things. He figured it would attract less attention to find a cargo ship. There hadn’t been any information for the cargo schedules, unsurprisingly, but he figured if they could hunt down an employee it’d be easy enough to find.

“Oi there!”

Roadhog almost jumped at Junkrat’s sudden yell in his ear, but he turned to look at the man Junkrat was calling to.

“We got some questions,” Junkrat hollered, gesturing for the man to come closer with his stump. The man looked a little baffled but he did walk up to them with less fear than Roadhog would’ve expected.  
“How may I help you two… gentlemen?” The man asked, eyes flicking over their ragged appearances.

“Me and my,” Junkrat patted Roadhog’s head with his stump, giggling at the warning growl Roadhog gave him, “well whatever, we’re tryna go to Japan.”  
“Business or pleasure?” The man asked. Junkrat giggled at the question and Roadhog rolled his eyes.

“Pleasure, definitely pleasure,” Junkrat answered, wriggling around on Roadhog’s back. The man’s hastily hidden pained expression made it definitely worth letting Rat keep doing the talking.

“We have a number of cruises we could offer. I’m sure we have something the two of you would enjoy. If you come with me we can find a trip for you. Did you have an approximate time you’d like to look at?”

“Today.” Junkrat grinned.

The man blinked, and adjusted his tie nervously. “I’m afraid our trips for today are likely to be fully boo--”

“Well, mate, ‘likely’ and ‘actually’ are different, yeah? How ‘bout you double check before tryna put me and my pig off our honeymoon.”

_Their what?_

“Y-yes, of course.” The man scurried away. Roadhog followed him into the help center at a more leisurely pace, treated with Junkrat’s endless giggling in his ear as they went. They stood at the desk while the man made call after call to try finding an opening, any opening, for their passage to Japan. After twenty or so minutes, he hung up with an air of relief.

“There is a vessel leaving in the morning that has openings. It’s the earliest I could find, and honestly much, much earlier than I’d ever expected to get. Is that… alright?”

The junkers looked at each other and shrugged.

“Ye, that’ll do it,” Junkrat consented at length. The man smiled, clearly pleased there would be no problems. He started in on the technicalities of the trip, and when he got to pricing, Junkrat choked.

“That much for a fuckin’ boat ride?” He hissed in Roadhog’s ear, fingers digging unpleasantly into Roadhog’s collarbone. Roadhog shushed him and gestured for the man to keep talking. After his spiel, he looked at the pair of them expectantly.

“We’ve got a motorcycle,” Roadhog grunted, “there a cargo ship goin’ the same way as us we could stick it on?”

“Ah… off the top of my head…” The man pulled a digital tablet out of his pocket and started scrolling through it rapidly. “There is a ship down on dock 42 that will be docking in one of the same ports as the cruise ship. It leaves tonight and will sail straight there, so if they let you use space your motorcycle would arrive several days ahead of you-- but that’s the closest I can find.” The man looked up at them again. “And of course, I really don’t know how likely it is they’d have space for anything extra.”

Roadhog grunted again. He turned his head to get Junkrat’s attention and huffed. Junkrat grinned.

“Right, well, now we know when this ship’s headin’ out, we’re gonna go find a place for the night,” Rat told the man. “See you bright and early, eh?”

The man started to stammer something about paying in advance, but Roadhog had already turned and started walking out. He didn’t chase them, and neither of them were surprised. He was probably hoping they wouldn’t be back.

The dock outside the help center was number three, so they still had a ways to go to get to the cargo dock. Roadhog approached the motorcycle and let Junkrat slide off his back and onto the seat. Hog sat and they got themselves adjusted the way they had before, Junkrat nestled on Roadhog’s lap.

“So what we gonna do? Not really gonna pay all that for a trip out, are we?”

“We’re going to get on the cargo ship. Leaves sooner, goes directly to Japan, and we won’t be surrounded by people who’ve got too much money to know what to do with.”

“Sounds good! Let’s get goin’, Hoggie!”

Hog revved up the motorcycle and they sped off. They arrived at the dock and it didn’t take long for a pair of people to approach them.

“This area is restricted,” the woman told them, “the signs are a little hard to see, but--”

“Here on business,” Roadhog interrupted.

The woman’s companion raised their eyebrows. “What kinda business?”

“We’re going to Japan,” Roadhog answered, “needed room for the bike.”

The pair looked at each other uncertainly.  
“That’ll cost a pretty penny,” the woman mused after a moment, _“if_ we even have room.”

“How much does it cost to make room?” Roadhog asked.

“Well--”

“Rutledge!”

The four of them looked around. There was a man jogging toward them. Even from a distance he was obviously the shortest of everyone on the dock, and Roadhog froze as he approached. He could feel Junkrat tense in his arms, felt the movement as he looked between the two of them.

“Son of a bitch! I thought you died!” Leroy laughed when he was finally close enough to speak. “Never thought I’d be seeing you again!”

Roadhog simply stared at him. He hadn’t seen Leroy since he’d been young. Leroy’s attention had gone to the bike.

“Can’t believe you still have her! Damn, you’ve taken good care of her.” He reached out to brush his fingers across one handlebar, but Junkrat’s hand snatched his wrist before he could make contact. Leroy jumped in surprise, and the two of them stared at one another, Leroy in shock, Junkrat glowering. Finally, Roadhog shook himself out of the rush of memories of when Mako and Leroy had been friends.

“Let ‘im go, Rat,” he muttered. Junkrat looked up at Roadhog, eyes searching the mask for answers. Hog nodded encouragingly, and Junkrat slowly let go of Leroy’s arm. Leroy laughed uncomfortably, rubbing his wrist.

“What are you doing here?” He asked Roadhog curiously.

“Thought we’d take a trip,” Roadhog answered, dropping his hand on Junkrat’s lower leg to calm him down. “Came down here ‘cause we needed space for the bike.”

Leroy cocked an eyebrow, then looked at the two who had greeted the junkers first. “Let ‘em on.”

They looked uncertain but said, “yes, captain.”

The female pulled a communicator from her vest and called up to the ship to let them know they were taking some extra cargo. Roadhog shifted Junkrat so he could balance on his own, then stood up so he could push the bike the rest of the way on board.

“We never have anything to take out of this place anymore,” Leroy sighed as they walked toward the ship. “We keep coming back to deliver things though. Sydney’s really improving, isn’t it?”

Roadhog grunted. Maybe it was, but it was the only part. Leroy kept talking, filling him in on everything he’d been up to since the Crisis.

“Honestly, Mako, I thought you were dead! We had a ceremony for everyone back on Motu-O-Kura before it sank.”

“How many islands sank?” Roadhog asked before he could stop himself.

Leroy scratched at his well-trimmed beard as he thought. “I guess twelve or thirteen? Seas were rough for a long time. A lotta islands that were low-lying before got swallowed up.”

Roadhog frowned under the mask and Leroy fell into silence beside him. They reached the ship and Leroy guided them into a storage area.

“Which ship are you takin’ out?” Leroy asked as Roadhog parked the motorcycle.

“This one.”

“What?”  
“You think I’m going to leave my bike?” Roadhog asked, looking at Leroy. The man blinked, then laughed.

“You’re welcome to come with us, we’ve got the food for it,” he smiled, “just know we don’t have any extra rooms.”

“We’ll stay here.”

Leroy grinned, “Alright. I have some things to tend to, but I’ll be back before we ship out and I can show you around a little bit so you know where to eat.”

He and his companions left, leaving Junkrat and Roadhog alone. Junkrat had been abnormally quiet throughout the duration of their boarding, and when Roadhog turned to him to find out why he realized he’d been pouting.

“What’s wrong?” Roadhog grumbled.  
“Those things he was callin’ you,” Junkrat said, brow furrowed, “what’d they mean?”

“What things?”

“Rutledge. Mako.”

Roadhog took a deep breath. He hadn’t thought Junkrat would ever say his name. “Used to be my name.”

Junkrat’s eyes got wide. He gaped at Roadhog. He shifted on the seat and nearly toppled off. Roadhog caught him with a “careful” hissed between his teeth. Junkrat wriggled until he had his arm hooked around Roadhog’s neck and he was pressed against his stomach.

“You never told me your name,” he pouted. “How come he knows?”

“Met him as a kid,” Roadhog answered, hands on Junkrat’s waist, “and you never told me yours either.”

Junkrat blinked, confused, frowning at Roadhog’s mask without focus. “Didn’t I…?”

“Nope.”

Junkrat grinned, eyes focusing on Roadhog again. “Name’s Jamieson Fawkes!”

Roadhog laughed, “Mako Rutledge.”

“Nice ta meet’cha, Mako!”

 

They spent the hours before Leroy returned building a new arm for Junkrat. It consisted a lot of Junkrat giving instructions that were unorthodox in vocabulary but nevertheless effective for Roadhog to follow. They’d made good progress before Leroy arrived, but hadn’t gotten to finish it. Instead, they left it where they’d been working and Roadhog carried Junkrat around on their little tour. They were introduced to the crew members they passed, but Roadhog didn’t bother to remember their names. The trip would be about two weeks, from what Leroy had said, so the chances he would meet them again were high. The pair they had met on the dock were Leroy’s wife Rebecca and their partner Taylor. The three of them stayed close as they guided the junkers around the ship and took them to get food. Junkrat didn’t like being around crowds without his arm and leg, so they took their meals back to the bike where they could eat alone.

“Not a bad set up,” Junkrat mused through a mouthful of his dinner. “Shouldn’t be too bad a trip with that lot around and all this space to ourselves.”

Roadhog agreed with a low grunt. “As long as there aren’t any storms, we should be fine.”

 

There were no major storms, a miracle for which everyone expressed their gratitude. That stretch of ocean wasn’t known for being smooth sailing, but they had no problems that weren’t fixed quickly. The junkers spent most of their time beside the motorcycle working on Junkrat’s new limbs. The arm was finished in a few days, but the leg took longer. Junkrat had never needed to build a leg before. He had two hands again and was perfectly content to work on his new piece alone. He hunched over so far it hurt Roadhog’s back to look at him, and muttered to himself endlessly as he threw pieces together and tore them apart. Hog spent the time working on his bike or reading. Sometimes Junkrat hassled him until he read out loud, but most times he didn’t quite seem to notice Roadhog was there. He always noticed if he tried to leave though.

“Where are you going? Are you coming back soon? Can I come?” were questions Roadhog was met with every time.

“I’m just going to take a piss, fuck!” He snapped on the third barrage that day.

Junkrat snickered, “can I come?”

“Fuck off, Rat.”

Junkrat’s laughter trailed in the air after him until the door closed behind him.

 

Bright and early on their second to last day, Roadhog found himself being shaken awake.  
“Roadie, Roadie!”

He groaned as he opened his eyes. Junkrat was perched on his stomach, hands on Roadhog’s shoulders, grinning broadly only inches away from the snout of the mask.

“What?”

“Finished me leg!”

Roadhog sat up, sending Junkrat tumbling backward onto the ground. He grinned up at him from his back, lifting his new leg up to show off.

“Nice, eh?” He asked, waving it around wildly. To stop it from hitting him in the face, Roadhog snatched it. He ignored Junkrat’s giggled, “ooh, naughty~” as he moved it around to examine Junkrat’s work.

“Not bad. You tested it?”

Junkrat nodded, pushing himself onto his elbows. “Runnin’ and jumpin’ it’s fine. Ain’t had nothing to jump off to see how well it’ll handle in a pinch, but I figure we can do some testing before we actually get into any sorta fun in Japan.”

“Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em!” Rat laughed. His eyes flicked from Roadhog’s hand on his leg to Roadhog’s mask and over the expanse of his belly. Hog had seen that look enough to know to be wary of whatever Junkrat had to say next. He braced himself to reject any offers Junkrat made, no matter how tempting they were. Junkrat swallowed, eyes fixed on Roadhog’s body. They jumped back to his leg, and he pushed himself into a sitting position instead.

“I’m hungry. Wanna go get somethin’ to eat?”

That… wasn’t what he’d expected. Surely Junkrat wanted to come onto him again? Rather than ask, he nodded and let go of Rat’s leg. The man was on his feet-- foot and peg-- in an instant. He gave Hog another hungry once over, then laughed and started hobbling for the door.

“C’mon then! I hate waiting.”

Roadhog followed and made himself believe he wasn’t disappointed.

Hog had to spend the rest of the day making Junkrat cleanup. He’d scattered tools all over the area while he was working and with disembarkation so close, Roadhog wanted to make sure they had all their equipment before they left. Junkrat whined and bitched but gathered things up while Roadhog stood by with folded arms.

When he was finally finished, they went up onto the deck. Junkrat had kept indoors the entire trip, breaking from work only to eat. The moment the door opened, he froze.

“What’s wrong with the air?” He asked, sniffing curiously. Roadhog, through his mask, hadn’t noticed anything.

“What’d’you mean?” Roadhog asked as he strode out onto the deck. Junkrat followed a little hesitantly, breathing unsteady.

“It’s just… thinner?” Junkrat said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure if that was what the problem was. “Smells like salt, ‘cause of the water, right? But it’s so… it’s thin, I think?”

Was it…?

An idea had snapped into Roadhog’s head and, anxious to test his theory, he immediately worked off the straps on his mask and pulled it off.

He breathed in, deeply. Yes. The air was different. _Clean._ His eyes closed and he focused on nothing but the feeling of clean air flooding into his body for the first time since he’d helped blow Oz into shit.

“R-Roadie…?”

Roadhog looked at Junkrat, gaping at him with wide eyes and warm cheeks, and felt his heart expanding rapidly.

“There’s no radiation,” he explained, watching his unaltered voice send shivers through Junkrat’s body. “This is what the air used to be like-- it’s clean.”

“Oh… wow....” Roadhog wasn’t sure if Junkrat’s tone was only referring to the air, not while his eyes were roaming his face like he never wanted to look at anything else.

“Breathe deeply,” Hog told him, realizing this was the first time in Junkrat’s life he’d ever breathed in fresh air, “don’t hyperventilate.”

Junkrat nodded, licking his lips. He slowed his breathing, making it deeper, really taking in the air.

“Good,” Roadhog murmured. Junkrat shivered again, and took a few steps forward.

“Roadie…” He whispered. He put his flesh hand flat on Roadhog’s stomach. He was shaking. His eyes never left Roadhog’s face. Roadhog put his hand over Junkrat’s.

“Hoggie, I’m really hap--”

“Junkrat! Roadhog!”

They stepped apart, Junkrat frowning as Roadhog resecured the mask over his face. Leroy appeared at their sides, not seeming to realize he’d walked in at a bad time.

“We’re getting there earlier than we thought. We’ll pull in before dark even. You two ready?”

Roadhog nodded and Junkrat mumbled, “yeah”, but his eyes were on the ground. Leroy grinned and let them know he would help them with anything else he could. They agreed to have dinner all together to celebrate the incredibly easy voyage. Then he left.

The junkers were quiet for a few moments, then Junkrat headed toward the door as well. “Better get ready to eat, huh?”

Hog nodded again and followed him inside.

Dinner was fun. It had been a long time since the pair of them had gotten to relax around anyone other than each other. They laughed hard and ate their fill. As they were retiring to their ‘room’ to get the motorcycle ready, Junkrat sighed.

“Wouldn’t be too bad to meet up with this crowd again someday, y’know? Not a bad bunch.”

“Not bad at all-- but I don’t imagine settling down is what you want.”

Junkrat cackled, “got me there, mate! I wanna go blow shit up in every country I ain’t been to yet!”

Snorting, Roadhog joked, “that’s all of them, Rat.”

“I know that,” he grinned.

Rat tried to flop in the sidecar and make Roadhog push the bike with him in it (“You’re strong enough to do it!”) but Hog refused, forcing him to limp alongside on his own legs. They parked the bike by the door they would eventually leave through, then went back to the deck so Junkrat could watch the process of docking the ship. He whistled and laughed excitedly, pointing enthusiastically, at every step. He loved how many differently sized ropes it took, loved watching the workers making sure everything was secure. He loved the sea birds that swooped around and called loudly to one another. He jostled Roadhog’s arm as the gangplank was brought over in pieces and assembled securely. Rat practically dragged Junkrat back indoors so they could get the bike and go.

Standing next to his motorcycle, next to Junkrat, surrounded by people whose company he actually enjoyed, Roadhog felt excitement tingling through his blood. He hadn’t ever thought he would come anywhere near this far. He looked at Junkrat and smiled. This man who had come barging loudly into his life and changed everything. His eyes drifted low to his missing leg and he swore to any god paying attention that he would protect Junkrat better from now on. As if sensing his gaze, Junkrat looked over and grinned at him too.

“You ready, Hoggie?”

“Yeah. You ready, Rat?”

“Always ready with you,” Junkrat laughed.

Leroy opened the doors to the gangway and the junkers stepped out onto Japanese soil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay~! School started back up and Overwatch keeps having events so I play instead of writing. ^^;;  
> Big thanks to my Beta Reader: Boi Ready, without whom I would never have uploaded anything!  
> Thanks to Mero who has been enthusiastically kind and supportive of this story!  
> And of course: Thank you to each and every one of you who have read, left kudos, and/or commented. It really makes me so happy to see people have enjoyed it so far. 
> 
> Feel free to come chat with me about Roadrat or whatever! Mrthirst @ tumblr


	9. Overseas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duo visit Japan

Junkrat loved Japan. The city they’d landed in was huge, alive and thriving with noise and light at all hours of the day. Neon lights danced in his eyes, keeping him darting through crowds when the junkers went out, and pressed against the windows of their rooms whenever they stopped. The laughter on the streets, the skyscrapers filled with glittering objects and signs; everything was bright and loud through the day and night. The bombardment of sounds and light had Junkrat wired so tightly with excitement he hadn’t even mentioned blowing anything up. 

Big city life suited him well-- except his complete lack of etiquette. His voice was loud and sliced offensively through the quiet when they road trains, he pressed himself against the glass of storefronts and left them smudged and dirty. He seemed oblivious to the affronted stares of the people around, but Roadhog knew he wouldn’t have cared anyway. He laughed and pointed at passersby, remarking loudly about their clothes or things they were carrying. The first time he saw someone walking across the street carrying a crepe, he’d nearly been killed running across the road without looking. He’d asked her excitedly where she had gotten it, loud and huge and frighteningly close. She’d pointed behind her, on the verge of tears by the time Roadhog crossed the street as well.

“Hoggy, we gotta go get some of those!” Junkrat laughed as soon as Roadhog was close. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

Junkrat watched with wide, star-filled eyes, as the man behind the counter made up two huge crepes for the two junkers. His fingers smudged the glass barrier protecting the food from the elements, and he was so close to it his breath fogged up his vision. He grinned widely over his shoulder at Roadhog, smacking his huge stomach excitedly as he bubbled with thrilled laughter.

“Look how fancy this shit is!” He practically yelled as the man handed the first finished crepe to Junkrat. He examined it carefully, attention absorbed on his prize rather than watching the second crepe’s construction. He plucked a strawberry out of the whipped cream, frowning slightly at it before popping it into his mouth. His eyes lit up and he practically gasped as he chewed.   
“Roadhog!” He was in his space at once, holding out another strawberry, “try one, try one!”   
“You eat it,” Roadhog grunted, taking the second crepe from the man, “I have my own.”

Junkrat huffed but didn’t complain as he devoured the strawberry himself. With their snacks, they wandered off again. They came across a path into a wooded area that had few pedestrians, and Roadhog took that as an opportunity to eat his crepe as well. Mask pushed up and vision limited, he let himself enjoy the fruit. He hadn’t had fresh fruit in… decades. He sighed happily, savoring each bite slowly-- until, just over halfway through, he realized Junkrat had already devoured his entire treat. It briefly crossed his mind that Junkrat may not ever be able to enjoy things slowly, particularly not edibles.

“What’s these barrels for?” Junkrat asked, stepping over the rope divider to run his hands along the wood.

“It’s sake,” Roadhog answered, cramming the rest of his crepe into his mouth and pulling his mask down before a group of tourists were near enough to see him without it.

“The fuck is that?” Junkrat rapped on the wood with his knuckles. 

“Come back here, we’ll find somewhere that serves it,” Roadhog muttered, side-eyeing the group who was slowly approaching. They looked hesitant to be near him, huge as he was, and offended that Junkrat was touching all over the barrels. Junkrat made his way back and they set off the way they’d come, back toward the busy street rather than finish the path.

 

The sun was starting to set amidst the buildings as they walked. Junkrat wasn’t sure what Roadhog was looking for, but he was content to walk along with him, pointing and laughing at everything that excited him. Their vehicles were sleek and shiny, zooming around with hardly any noise at all. The buildings looked like they were holding up the sky, flashing signs blazing in the windows. Giant screens played commercials and clips of music videos. He wanted to stand there and soak it up forever.

“Wouldn’t recommend it,” Roadhog replied, letting Junkrat know he’d spoken out loud.

Junkrat cackled, “maybe I’ll retire here, eh? On the off chance I don’t cark it young after all!”

“There’s a whole wide world you still have to see,” Roadhog grumbled through Junkrat’s continued tittering, “might not want to make retirement plans just yet.”

“What would you do?” Junkrat asked after a short pause. In response to Roadhog’s curious look, he added, “when we’re done, I mean. When the treasure’s gone and I’ve finally paid what I owe ya. Whatcha gonna do then?”

_ Follow you, _ Roadhog thought. He grunted and shrugged, “figure it out when we get there.”

 

The bar wasn’t like any in Junkertown, Junkrat wasn’t surprised to see. It was clean and well lit, and a little cat figurine sat near the window to beckon people in off the street. It was cute. He looked up at Roadhog who was scanning the interior, and wondered if he’d like it. He made a mental note to pocket the cat on the way out. Roadhog tapped his chest with the back of one massive hand and gestured for him to follow. The pair walked after a little hostess Junkrat hadn’t seen earlier over to a booth. Junkrat couldn’t help but feel she’d tried to put them as far from other guests as possible. The idea made him laugh. Roadhog shot him a look as they settled down, so he went ahead and explained. It made Roadhog snort too, so clearly it had been actually funny rather than the nonsense he laughed about sometimes. Roadhog, as usual, ordered for him, allowing him to giggle through the menu at the food items pictured as he’d been doing since they arrived in the country. He was sure Roadhog told him what it was he was eating, but he never remembered well enough to identify any pictures. 

Roadhog had ordered him a big, steaming bowl of noodles. Junkrat looked over the little strips of meat-- chicken, he noted upon further inspection-- cut vegetables, and a little white star with a pink swirl through the middle. No idea what that was, but he liked the way it tasted. Their meal (Roadhog had gotten himself something very similar to Junkrat) was accompanied by a drink Roadhog said was the sake he’d mentioned earlier. He also told Junkrat he wasn’t allowed to drink any until he’d finished his ramen.

“Always rule makin’,” Junkrat huffed, sticking his tongue out at Roadhog, “I ain’t ya son!”

Roadhog snorted and definitely rolled his eyes. “Shut up and eat.”

 

He knew from the first sip that he’d never had alcohol like it before. It burned less than what he’d grown up on in the outback, but it tasted less like petrol, iron, or (on one memorable occasion) piss. Junkrat drained his glass on the second drink.

“Hog, this is fuckin’ fantastic!” He praised, pouring himself another glass. The cups were hilariously, confusingly small. He wanted to just drink it out of the bottle (also small) but Hog wouldn’t let him. Said they were lying low and they should try blending in. Junkrat laughed, especially since neither of them were inconspicuous looking characters. Roadhog snorted and told him to behave anyway. So he did. It wasn’t too bad, if he was honest. There was enough difference in Japan to keep him interested and entertained even when he was forced to keep his head down. At least for now… He was sure the neon signs would make beautifully colored flames.

It took longer than usual to get drunk. Roadhog said the sake had a lower alcohol content than what they were drinking back home. Rat whined about the time, but Roadhog kept the bottles coming. Bless that pig. 

“‘S good shit, Roadie,” Junkrat slurred. There were dozens of bottles across the table at this point, but Rat couldn’t tell if they’d really had that many or if his vision was duplicating. “Wish we’d had this in the desert.”

Roadhog chuckled, sending deep rumbling tingles all through Junkrat’s body. It felt like he was fizzling from his core out through the tips of his singed and thinning hair. It made him titter something stupid. Louder with the alcohol, abrasive as always. Through the pleasant haze of sake in his brain he still noticed that Roadhog didn’t flinch like he used to. He grinned broader, cheeks hurting. How long had it been that Hog had grown accustomed to him? 

“Longest I ever been with anyone,” he babbled, no longer holding what little control he usually had over his mouth, “feels good.”

Roadhog was looking at him, head slightly tilted. It made Junkrat laugh as the warmth in his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. 

“Wanna drink this shit all the time.”

“You’d be insufferable.”

“Ain’t I always?”   
Hog laughed and poured them both another cup. He didn’t answer. Junkrat forgot he asked.

 

As Roadhog carried Junkrat (“Piggy back, Hoggy, piggy!”) down the street in the direction of their hotel, Junkrat warbled loudly a song he was making up on the spot. The only words that were distinguishable through the slurring and giggles were “fire”, “beauty”, and the poorest attempt to say “motorcycle” that Roadhog had ever heard. 

Rooms that could fit Roadhog comfortably had always been hard to find, but here they had been even more so. Junkrat had laughed uncontrollably over the pitiful size of some rooms, beds, and other furniture that could never dream of supporting Roadhog’s bulk. Eventually they had found one. It was fancy and definitely cost more per night than they’d ever paid for a room back in Australia. But it was still a small price to pay to stay low key, Roadhog had said. It was their fourth night in this room. Junkrat had been living it up, laughing excitedly over every detail: the plush carpet ("who makes the floor a blanket, Roadie?”), the softness of the mattress (“can people actually sleep on somethin’ like this?”), the running water in the bathroom (“it’s been on for like five minutes, Roadie, is it never gonna stop?”). Hog sat on their mattress and let Junkrat ooze off his back like water. Junkrat sprawled on the comforter, running his fingers over the plush fuzz of the blanket under him. He stared at the ceiling, mind whirring through the light intoxication. Roadhog finished pulling off his boots and swung around to tug off Junkrat’s boot as well. 

Right.

_ Boot. _

Junkrat propped himself up on his elbows to look down at the peg they’d made to replace his leg. It worked well enough; supported his weight even when jumping off small ledges, and it didn’t even slow him down that much. He sat up as Roadhog lay down, giggling as the mattress bounced and dipped heavily under Hog’s weight. He ran his hand over the peg, the feel of the metal bringing back memories of building the leg on the ship with Roadhog. He thought about the work, about how many days he spent sitting back to back with Roadhog as they pieced it together. He thought about Roadhog’s friend and his partners. His friend who knew him before Junkrat was born and called him by his birth name.

Ah… his name… what was it?

Something with an ‘R’... 

Razorback! Probably. It was fitting. Roadhog had definitely been named Razorback. Maybe that’s why he liked pigs.

But… no… it didn’t feel quite right. 

He scowled. It hadn’t been a problem for the boat man-- Leroy-- to remember Hog’s name even after years of not seeing him. And Hog had remembered him too. Junkrat didn’t think if anyone he hadn’t seen in longer than a few months popped up he’d recognize them. He hadn’t recognized Range, and that’d helped lose him a leg. He wondered how much he’d forgotten that would have been helpful. What things had he needed that he hadn’t been able to keep a hold of?

His eyes darted around the room, taking in the surroundings with a more familiar, less excited filter. Waste. Pointless, frivolous fluff built by men with money to wring more money out of other people. His eyes narrowed as he glowered around at the monetary circle jerk they’d been sleeping in for days.

Roadhog took that moment to touch the back of Junkrat’s hand gently with two fingers. Lurching at the sudden contact, Junkrat blinked himself out of his slowly building rage and whipped around to see Hog looking at him. His head was tilted to the side slightly: he was curious. Probably because Junkrat had been quiet for longer than a few seconds without imminent danger or work to keep him that way. His fingers were still stroking Rat’s skin. He smiled.

“Y’look worried, Roadie,” he grinned, metal fingers itching to touch Roadhog’s hand too. Wouldn’t be as nice for Roadie, probably. Wouldn’t matter since he wouldn’t get to feel anything himself either. “Whatchu thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Roadhog snorted, “was gonna ask you that. You’re quiet.”

Junkrat licked his lips. “Fuck this place, Roadie.”

Hog made a noise but didn’t interrupt.

“It’s so…  _ much _ here. I loved it, y’know? The lights n’ noise n’ soft everywhere, it’s great, I get it. It’d be so easy to hole up here and ignore everyone dying. Out of sight, out of mind or some shit. Gotta keep people soft and feed ‘em more than they can eat, let ‘em have enough water to waste washin’ the shit outta their assholes so no one ever thinks about what cunts they are. I bet no one here ever had a hard day in their life. None of 'em have seen hell like us.”

“You wanna show them?”

Junkrat's gaze zeroed in on Roadhog's mask, bright and dangerous as he grinned.

“Fuck yeah!”

Roadhog nodded and got back up to go rummage through their bags. He came back with the map of Japan that Leroy had given them before they separated at the docks and spread it across the foot of the bed.

“We're here,” he said, pointing to the city, “and Leroy said the best ports for crossing the sea are here, here, and here if the first two don't work out.”

Junkrat nodded, eyes flickering over the paper after Hog's sliding finger. “We could clear this whole country in no time at all. Probably get on another ship before anyone here even found evidence we'd done anything even if we stayed to watch instead of settin’ up timers.”

“You wanna watch?”

Junkrat paused, then shrugged, “it'll be on the news, I bet, and you wanted to keep our trail hard to find so… either’s fine. There's a stop I wanna rob first though. I saw some stuff you might like a few days after we got here. I think we should getcha some souvenirs before we ditch this place.” 

Roadhog cocked his head to the side curiously, but Junkrat did not elaborate nor look up from the map. The gears in his head were turning again, plotting for the first time in weeks and it was invigorating. The buzz of alcohol had always easily fallen to the wayside whenever he was focusing exclusively on his work. He didn't know how it worked, but as his vision slowed it's gentle swaying, he was grateful for the convenience it provided him. Especially since it left the warm curl in his belly even if the fog in his brain was lifting.

“I think… we can blow this place,” he muttered, “figure out some other places that’d be good for some fireworks…”

He continued mumbling to himself, alternating between running his fingers over the map and hopping up to look out their window. It kept him occupied for the better part of two hours while Hog leaned back and flicked on the TV. Explosives were Junkrat’s area and he’d fill Hog in on whatever plan he actually decided on. 

“Ready to go?” Junkrat asked after awhile as he hopped back onto the bed.

“What? Now?”

  
“Yes! ‘M eager to get me hand reacquainted with a detonator.”

Roadhog shook his head. “Tomorrow. Not tonight.” When Junkrat looked ready to protest, Roadhog held up a hand and went on, “we should be well rested from the start. Enjoy another full night’s sleep before we might have to start taking shifts again. Stock up on water and food, make sure we pack everything, and stop by that place you wanted. We can be setting things up by noon if we get up early.”

Junkrat’s face scrunched up as he thought it over. He was clearly chomping at the bit to go now they had a plan, but eventually his face softened again and he nodded.

“Smart thinkin’, Roadie,” he consented, folding the map messily, “as always.”

Hog put a hand on his hunched back, rubbing his shoulder blades with two fingers. “We’ll show them,” he promised softly. “We’ll give everyone a taste of back home.”

  
“They’ll think twice ‘bout bein’ selfish twats, won’t they?” Junkrat grinned over his shoulder. 

“Ones that survive might.”

Junkrat cackled, leaning all his weight into the hand on his back. He weighed so little still Hog didn’t even have to stop moving his fingers to support him. They sat like that for a while longer, until Junkrat’s eyes fluttered closed and his breathing started to slow.

“Let’s get to sleep,” Roadhog told him, gently pulling the haphazardly folded map out of Junkrat’s grip. “Vacation’s over; we’re back to work in the morning.”

“Damn right,” Junkrat mumbled sleepily as he fell gracelessly onto the mattress the instant Roadhog stopped holding him up. “Gonna be so damn good…”

He was asleep before Roadhog had even finished putting things away and turning off the light, but still he rolled closer to Hog’s heat once he’d finally gotten into bed himself. He removed Junkrat’s arm easily by feel alone, but fumbled a bit with the leg. He hadn’t gotten used to its workings yet. It didn’t sit right in his gut to know he would have it memorized soon enough. Putting that thought aside with all the others he was doggedly ignoring, he closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

 

The most incredible thing about not being on the run was sleeping. Both of them. They were able to lounge and let their guards down (as much as they could) and actually sleep. Junkrat thought he’d been sleeping as well as he possibly could after he’d finally started trusting Hog not to kill him in the night, but they were on a completely new level now. Five entire hours in one go. Junkrat could hardly believe how refreshing it felt to wake up tangled with Roadhog in ridiculously expensive sheets. As he sat up and stretched, he thought to himself that suits really had it made. He paused, arms still over his head. This was how they lived all the time. The sheets, the carpet, the fancy food and deliciously weak alcohol, the unending flow of water. Rat hadn’t even been here for a week and already he’d eaten, slept, and had more to drink than he’d ever had at once. Junkers were supposed to take and take and take, and yet… A sour feeling curdled in his stomach. He dropped his arms and stared at the wall, the technicolor memories of their visit into a more luxurious life playing on repeat in his head. He thought of the two of them living it up in their room, at the restaurants, through the stores. He thought of the two of them camping in the desert with nothing but scorpions and sand for company, blowing buildings to bits and emptying banks of their contents. 

He missed it: the dry heat that felt like he was baking, blinded from the sky and the sun reflecting from the ground, the taste of vermin after days of nothing, the relief of water in his parched throat. His heart twinged and he longed for his bombs, the sound of Roadhog’s laughter amidst the explosions and the flash of his hook through the smoke. But… it’d be fine. They had big plans for the day, didn’t they? They were gonna make this place look a little more like home before running off to fix up the next place. He slipped out of bed, crawling around on the floor until he found where Hog had put his leg and got to work reattaching it one-handedly. Once it was back in place, he hopped up and pressed himself against the window. Until Roadhog woke up, he stayed there, breath fogging the glass, imagining everything in sight in a blaze of fire and crumbling as the supports gave out under the beautiful blasts of his bombs. 

When Roadhog’s snoring was replaced with a yawn and the tell-tale groans of stretching, Junkrat turned, grinning widely.

“Rise n’ shine, sleepy head!”

“‘M already up,” he grumbled in response. Junkrat giggled and pushed off the window to start putting his arm back on. 

The pair of them moved about the room in the typical one-sided conversation that was as close to silence as they came. Junkrat focused better when he was talking and this morning he’d chosen simply to narrate whatever he was doing, with intermediate spurts of reviewing plan details. Roadhog was only half listening as he packed all the things they’d let scatter around the room in the nights they’d been staying. Once finished, he stood by the door, watching Junkrat take a last look around the room.

“Y'know,” Rat said after a minute, running his fingers absently over the mattress he'd robbed clean of bedding, “might actually miss this place. It was kinda nice livin’ the cushy life for a bit.”

Roadhog nodded. Junkrat grinned at him, eyes lighting up again in a way they hadn't burned since they'd planned giving him over to Mulga.

“But that ain't us, is it?”

Roadhog grunted.

“They showed us their life, now we get to show them ours.”

 

He left bombs in a heart on their bed and hung the Do Not Disturb sign on their door. In the lift, he wedged himself through a panel in the ceiling and stuck more on periodically down the shaft as they descended. On the way out, he dropped a couple in potted plants near support walls.

They left without checking out.

When they got back to the bike, Junkrat grinned, throwing himself onto the seat so he could wrap her engine in a big hug. They hadn't used her much during their stay. She was a striking figure and very likely recognizable if news from Australia had reached Japan's shores. 

“There's my favorite lady!” He cooed, stroking the gas tank as Roadhog loaded up the sidecar. “We missed you, baby, didn't we, Hoggy?”

Roadhog grunted.

“Don't mind him, he's shy,” Rat huffed at the bike. He squawked and laughed as Hog hoisted him by the harness and set him into the sidecar. The bike sank low as Roadhog hefted himself on the seat. It made Junkrat giggle quietly, eyes flickering over wide thighs straddling the leather seat. He whooped loudly as she roared to life and rolled out into the street.

Junkrat hadn’t told Roadhog the main destination, the stop with the souvenirs he wanted, but he gave directions as they went. There were several buildings along the way where Junkrat hopped out to scurry around with various explosives: a bank they hadn’t visited but watched besuited employees and pompous clientele strut snootily in and out of regularly as they passed by, an office Leroy mentioned took non-monetary donations meant for Sydney and sold them back to mainland Asia and Europe, another bank, a luxury apartment building, an indoor entertainment facility, and various politician’s homes. How Junkrat got a hold of their addresses-- especially on such short notice-- Roadhog didn’t know. In the long run, he figured as Junkrat came giggling back into the sidecar, it didn’t matter. The message would be loud and clear.

“Okay! That was the last one.” Junkrat grinned, patting Roadhog’s thigh. “One more stop, then we can blow this place sky high!”

Roadhog let Junkrat give him directions without a destination once more, trusting Junkrat to guide him properly to wherever was important enough to delay their escape. 

“Here we are! You can come in with me this time.” Junkrat clambered out of the sidecar and stretched. Catching side of Roadhog’s inquisitive head-tilt, he frowned. “That’s an invitation. We’re here for you!”

“It’s… an arcade.”

“Yeah. Turn’er off ‘n let’s go on in. There’s stuff in here I know you want.”

The plushes.

Of all the critical things Junkrat forgot, his brain had decided he needed to keep in mind that Roadhog had wanted some stupid onion/octopus plush. Roadhog’s heart did a weird fluttering thing. He decided firmly it was a palpitation and shut his bike off to follow Rat inside.

The arcade was mostly empty. There were a few groups of teenagers surrounding some of the games in corners, racing and fighting one another with cheers that could be easily heard over the music pounding through the speaker system. Junkrat headed immediately to one of the crane games. Ignoring a child already in front of the machine, he pressed his nose to the plexiglass barrier to examine the plushes. The boy looked up at him, wide-eyed, glancing at his bright orange arm and leg. His eyes somehow managed to get even larger as Roadhog approached.

“Which one you want?” He called over the cacophony of music from overhead as it mingled with the bells and whistles of the games themselves. “Or maybe  _ ones _ would suit ya fancy better,” he added, drawing out the s.

Roadhog surveyed the game, carefully looking over how each plush was wedged in to make the weak little crane arms struggle to grasp even one of them. He chuckled, and raised one fist.

“I want all of them.”

Junkrat squealed in delight as Roadhog's fist smashed into the machine. He reached in, massive hands scooping out as many plushes as he could get. The boy who'd been there first had screamed when the machine was broken and, at the sight of Hog stealing all the toys, burst into tears. 

Junkrat himself shimmied to a nearby drink machine, drawn in by the flashy colors of the front and the lights behind each button. He reached up to the top and, finding the joint where the door sealed against the back, pried the entire front off with his robotic arm. Grabbing cans at random, he turned back to Roadhog, arms so heavily laden with toys they kept falling off. He didn't seem to notice.

Just beyond him, Junkrat caught sight of someone who had.

“Security~” Junkrat warned his bodyguard in a singsong voice, pointing. Roadhog looked over his shoulder, then back at Junkrat. 

“Guess we overstayed our welcome,” Roadhog chuckled.

There was a split second pause, then they both started sprinting in tandem. Junkrat ripped open his drink, sloshing bubbly fluid as he tried drinking while running. They tore passed the little boy, still sobbing. A passing thought struck Rat that the kid had no reason to cry; Hog was still dropping stuffed animals. He could easily grab one.

The thought passed quickly and was forgotten as Junkrat turned his attention to the future.

 

They got to their bike before the serious looking men in suits could catch up. Hog dumped his armfuls of pachimaris (according to a poster he'd seen on the way out) onto Junkrat in the side car. He revved up the bike and they peeled away, speeding down the thin streets. 

“You ready to lose 'em for good?” Junkrat hollered over the wind. He slipped out of his seat and onto the front rim of the sidecar so he was facing backwards with his feet tucked inside the car.

“Blow 'em,” Roadhog called in response.

Giggling immaturely, Junkrat made a show of holding up the detonator and pushing the button.

Hog heard the blast, light flaring in the side mirrors. Beside him, Junkrat had his arms in the air, cheering and whooping for the destruction. He'd only taken out one of the buildings they'd rigged. It should be enough to divert focus away from them for a little while at least. The rest were on timers. Junkrat hoped they'd be able to hide somewhere with a TV to watch the flames. It wasn't as exciting that way but… they'd have opportunities to watch live again some other time.

They rounded a corner and the blazing skyscraper was blocked from view. Junkrat twisted back around and sank into his seat. He was grinning ear to ear as they tore away from the city limits. 

 

They drove for hours; until well into the night. Eventually they came across a little hole in the wall near the coast and they stopped for the night. They had quite a time trying to get a room. The older man behind the counter spoke extremely limited English and the only Japanese Roadhog knew was halting and clumsy. With the mask on, the man couldn't understand him and Junkrat had a difficult time getting the pronunciation right with so little coaching. Eventually they got their point across and were given a room. There wasn’t a TV, which disappointed Junkrat greatly. He’d been looking forward to seeing their handywork on the news.

It wasn’t really big enough, but that wasn’t a surprise. It would get cramped easily, Junkrat thought, but since it was only one night they’d make do.

“Gonna haveta get cozy here tonight, huh?” He laughed, sliding open the closet to pull out the futons they’d be using. He dragged them out into the room and set them up next to each other. He examined them, then looked back up at Roadhog. “Dunno if both of ‘em together’ll be enough for you. But! It’s as good as we’re gonna get it.”

He slid back as Roadhog dumped his bag in the bathroom doorway. He watched Hog come over and drop himself onto the futons. The room shook when Roadhog hit the ground and it made Junkrat giggle. Hog gave him a look through the mask, clearly unamused. Still, the first time they’d been in a hotel that had protested Hog’s weight, Junkrat’s impressed giggling had been greeted with growled threats and a fist to the stomach. Rat supposed Hog had learned how to read him better too. 

Roadhog must have been tired from such a long ride. He lay back almost at once, folding his hands over his stomach and sighing deeply as his body relaxed. Junkrat had been right; the futons were not quite wide enough for him.

Junkrat piled up some of the blankets up on the floor, arranging them into a little nest. He settled in, humming (as quietly as he could) cheerfully to himself as he pulled off his leg and started on his arm.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up to see Roadhog looking at him.

“Settin’ up to sleep too,” he said, gesturing at his pile one-handedly. “Oh! Sorry, didja wanna do shifts? I wasn’t thinkin’, sorry! I’ll stay up.”

Roadhog shook his head, stretching one arm out toward him. He curled his finger, inviting Junkrat closer. It made him giggle, crawling over as quickly as he could with only half of his limbs. When he was close enough, Roadhog curved his arm around him, hugging him close to his side. Junkrat grinned ear-to-ear and pressed his face into Roadhog’s skin. He was always so warm…

 

They woke early and left after a quick breakfast. They were less than an hour from the docks Leroy had recommended. As they drove, Junkrat’s brain spun with different options in case the sailors didn’t speak English well enough to be threatened or bribed properly. Before Roadhog pulled the bike to a halt, Junkrat had already come up with plans in the double digits. They caught the attention of a sailor a short distance away and waited, motorcycle idling, as he approached. The man said something Junkrat couldn’t understand and Roadhog sat up a little straighter. He replied in what Junkrat had to assume was the same language. He watched them converse closely, confused about this new development. He didn’t know Roadhog spoke more than one language, and today he’d learned about two-- albeit his Japanese was much worse than whatever it was he was speaking now. After a few long minutes, the man nodded and headed toward the ship.

“He’s getting us on board,” Roadhog explained, watching the man until he vanished up the gangplank. 

“The fuck was all that?”

“Māori,” Hog answered.

“Oh.” He’d heard the word. He probably should’ve known the language by hearing it. “How’d you learn it?”

“Learned it the same time as English.”

“Whoa… So you--”

The man called something out, cutting Junkrat off. He was in the doorway, waving them forward. Roadhog rode them slowly and carefully closer, guiding his bike along the path into the storage compartment on this ship. It wasn’t much different than the boat they’d taken to get here other than being less than half the size. Still, there was plenty of room for them both, the bike, and the rest of whatever the ship was carrying across the sea.

“Said it’d take about three hours,” Roadhog told him, shutting off the motorcycle’s engine.

“That all? That ain’t nothin’.”

“Nah, not at all. Figure we’ll get a map when we land in Korea, and see where we wanna go after that.”

“Sounds good to me, Hoggy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience for this update!  
> I realize it's been a little over 5 months since the last chapter. Whoops.  
> Here you all are at last! Hope you enjoy!  
> Fairly confident there weren't more tags to add for this chapter. If I missed anything please let me know!
> 
> mrthirst@tumblr


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